


Chess Club

by DetectiveDweam, SDAPOHS2003



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 77,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveDweam/pseuds/DetectiveDweam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDAPOHS2003/pseuds/SDAPOHS2003
Summary: |||Completed|||>Part 1 of the Chess Club AU<Clay, known as "Dream" in his school, is president of the chess club and a popular soccer player in his high school. Why was he called "Dream"? Everyone loved him; he just seemed too good to be true. Everyone knew him, and most loved him. George, a foreign exchange student, just started school in this new town. His only friend and his cousin, Nick, pushed him to join the Chess club because of his intelligence.What happens when these "social opposites" finally cross paths?---SDAPOHS2003 wrote all of Wilbur and Tommy's dialogue bits as well as their POV's :)--->Smut-free guarantee or your money back!>Possibly triggering chapters will be marked to the best of my ability (reoccurring themes: anxiety and mentions of suicide)Have a good day!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	1. Prologue|Florida Bound|

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome if you're here from my Wattpad! I finally decided to cross post from that platform to this one. Welcome to newcomers as well, since I know some of you really dislike reading things on Wattpad. My Wattpad is the same username, and I will be publishing most things on there first before I post them here. Anyways, enjoy the story!

**George’s POV**

My alarm ripped through the silence that laid within the room. I huffed, throwing a pillow over my face and fumbling with my hand as I tapped my phone repeatedly to make it stop. Eventually, the silence resumed, and I remembered why I had set an alarm for so early; I was going to America until I graduated high school. 

I begrudgingly swung my legs over the side of the bed. A chilly blast of air danced over my legs creating trails of goosebumps. My brain was fogged with an early-morning stupor, leaving me slightly useless as I tried to figure out what I should do first. Hesitantly, I walked out of my room and saw my mom standing at the stove, making a large breakfast. She grinned, sliding eggs onto a plate alongside some toast and potatoes. She exclaimed, "Morning! Come sit, I've made us some breakfast."

I nodded, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and following her to the dining table. Carefully, she placed a plate down for me and placed down her own, seating herself. I did the same, slouching over so my head was resting into my hand. I casually played and picked at the food with my other hand. She noticed my depressing behavior and asked softly, "What's wrong George? You know it won't be too long until you graduate!"

"Yeah, yeah I know, I'm just tired."

I ended the sentence with a small grin, my mom returning her attention to her own plate of food. It wasn't a complete lie; I was tired. I stayed up for most of the night, overthinking my arrival to an American high school. What would the people be like? Would Nick be nice? Were his friends nice?

More importantly, was there going to be any hot dudes?

Of course, a relationship wasn't on the top of my list, but if it happened I wouldn't be opposed to it. I began to think about my cousin, Nick. I never really knew him, as we only met once when we were both five years old. People change a lot within the span of eleven years, so I didn't expect him to still eat sand from a questionable sandbox or fail to climb trees. 

We ate in silence, which was very unusual since my mom had a bubbly personality and loved to talk. For once, I was certain that she was slightly regretting her decision to ship me off to America to live with my Aunt and Uncle (who I also knew little to nothing about). 

After I was done, she took my plate out to the kitchen and dropped it into the sink with a loud clunk. She returned, checking her watch. She furrowed her eyebrows, advising, "George, you should go get ready, it's almost time to go."

I reluctantly nod, putting my phone into my pocket. I asked, "Can you put my suitcases in the car?"

"Yeah, of course."

A bittersweet smile followed her reply. She was trying to hold back tears. We met in the middle of the distance between us and hugged. For the first time in a long time, I heard a wail of despair from my mom. We backed away, and I said, "This is for the better, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course, I just... I won't be able to see you in such a long time, is all," she managed to stutter out.

I nod, feeling tears start to cloud my eyes. She patted my shoulder lightly, going to the suitcases that sat haphazardly by the door. I wiped my eyes, sniffling. Slowly, I made my way to my bedroom, trying to waste time. I took a look at every single picture on the hallway walls, reminiscing. 

I had to do this though, I had to go for my mother. She needed to be on her own for a while so she could get her bearings back. After my father left, we were struggling to even buy a loaf of bread. We were doing better slowly but my mom couldn't take care of me. She also wanted me to do something overseas so it would look good for when I went to college. I eventually got fully dressed, grabbing a backpack I had with some random things inside to bring onto the plane. As I approached the door, turning around and giving my house one last look. A light gray cat with large eyes walked up to me, mewing at me. I let out a small chuckle, giving the cat one scratch on the head. I whispered, "Goodbye, kitty **.** I love you," before standing straight. 

As per usual for England, it was a disgustingly cloudy day. A few teenagers walked past the house, each listening to music and ignoring the others. I stood between the car door and the entrance, giving one last look over at the simple countryside home. My mom yelled, "George, we are gonna be late!"

"Yeah, I know," I nod, finally shutting the door behind me as I hop into the older car. 

On the way to the airport, my phone buzzed, bringing me out of my intense thoughts. It gave me a slight jump, as it was highly unexpected. I fumbled with the power button, hearing a faint tak as I unlocked my phone. It was a text from a strange number, which seemed to be from the US since it started with a +1. 

After some debate, I opened it, deciding I had nothing better to do. 

**+1 (xxx)xxxx**

_ Hi. _

I furrowed my brows, liberating inside my head whether or not I should ask who this was. Not too long after my silent debate, another buzz shot through my hand, it being another text from the same number. 

**+1 (xxx)xxxx**

_ Oh sorry, I guess I should tell you who I am. It's Nick _

I was a little confused, since I didn't ever give him my phone number. 

**George**

_ Oh, hey. _

_ How did you get my number?? _

**Nick**

_ Ur mom gave it to me. She said i should text you, something about you being lonely or something, idk, anyways I heard ur going to be staying here _

I couldn't tell if he was joking at first, because I was quite lonely and it wouldn't be too far-fetched of an idea for her to do that. Another buzz. I looked down, reading:

**Nick**

_ Im sorry if that came across wrong, it was a joke _

I exhaled aggressively, internally laughing at his awkwardness. 

**George**

_ Nice first impression, Nicholas  _

**Nick**

_ Ew, don't ever call me that again or we gonna have problems  _

**George**

_ Okay, Nicky _

**Nick**

_ Im gonna advise you to stop _

**George**

_ And if I dont? What are you gonna do?  _

**Nick**

_ Call me it again and youll see what happens _

**George**

_ Nicholas _

_ Nicholas _

_ Nicholas _

_ Nicholas _

_**Nick** _

_ Stop or Im gonna block you _

**George**

_ Do it _

_ What are you even doing awake? Isn't it like 2am or something over there? _

**Nick**

_ That's not important. What is important is that you are never gonna call me any name other than nick from now on _

And so on and so forth. We bantered for a long time, which brought my anxiety down because I had less to worry about. I had a feeling that Nick and I were going to become really good friends over the time I spent with him. He seemed like a decent guy; I was just hoping that others would be the same. 

Eventually, I had to say goodbye to Nick because I would be boarding the plane. My mom rushed us into the airport, getting me to the terminal as fast as she could. I almost missed the flight because I was too busy lamenting and goofing off after I woke up. 

The airport was a humble size, but still had a few large planes on the landing strip. After some rushing and confusion as to where I was supposed to go, my mom stopped us. I turned to face her, and she said, "Okay now listen George, don't talk to anyone you don't know. Your aunt and uncle told me to tell you they will be outside of the airport waiting. Don't trust the plane food, and if you need any of your stuff, don't hesitate to call me, alright? And..."

I interrupted her, smiling and saying, "Yes, yes I know mom. I'll see you soon, alright?" 

"Oh yes dear, I just... it's hard to see you go. I raised you for 18 years, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I love you George," she sniffled, pulling me into one last hug. 

I hugged back, my voice muffled into her jacket as I replied, "I love you too, but I got to go now."

"Yeah..."

We backed away, and she patted my shoulder, before smiling and turning to leave the airport. I turned, taking a deep breath before heading to the fight attendant to give her my ticket. 

\---

I felt a small poke at my shoulder, and I heard a lady softly state, "Hello, we are about to land so can you please buckle your seatbelt? Thank you so much."

I rubbed my eyes, replying, "Yeah, yeah of course."

She simply smiled, sauntering down the isle of seats to wake up other passengers who were also sleeping. I slept the whole time out of sheer boredom; it was the only thing that could relieve my anxiety, even a little bit. 

My least favorite about planes is landing, because it always feels as if the plane is going to crash. My nails dug into the scratchy blue handles, and my eyes squeezed together as hard as they could. The plane shook, then eventually a few large bumps ensued, and then clapping. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding, looking around me to the very few people clapping for the landing. Others were very obviously annoyed with the loud clappers, finding them quite cringeworthy. I would be one of them. 

Soon enough, we were allowed to exit the plane. When our group of passengers made it into the massive airport, we all went our separate ways, dispersing into the large crowd of people. The amount of people that pushed and crowded past me was highly unnerving. I found the closest wall of the airport, leaning against it to regain myself. I was starting to have trust issues with myself, as I tried to recall where my aunt and uncle would be. I began to contradict my own thoughts, certain that I was supposed to go outside. After some debating with myself, I decided to go outside (which I was sure I was supposed to) and push past the large groups of people. 

I started to play with my fingers as I tried to find my way out. The air felt dense and thick like jelly; it was almost impossible to take good sized breaths. I felt a bit dizzy as I looked around at the signs that pointed to different directions. I started to get frustrated, and a horrible tingly pit of nothingness formed at the bottom of my stomach. It all didn't make sense to me. I eventually made my way outside, taking a deep breath of the slightly more fresh air. After my almost panic attack, I was less hopeful I would be able to make it through even one hour of meeting new people in highschool. I could barely handle all of the people in the airport without feeling like keeling over and passing away. I looked around, searching for people who I last saw when I was five, which was hopeless since I barely remembered what they looked like. 

"Excuse me, are you George?" A stout older man with black glasses asked. 

I nod, noticing the taller woman with red (almost brown) hair and dark eyes. Her face pulled into a sharp tip of a nose, almost like a finch. 

I asked, "Yeah, um, are you... Uncle Andy?"

I was almost certain it was him, as I recognized them immediately once he asked me. He said, "Yes, it is me! Welcome, welcome, I haven't seen you since you were a young one, such a little one!"

He let out a hearty laugh, giving me a pat on the back. He still had a faint English accent, but because of his many years he spent in America, his accent changed dramatically; at least that's what my mom said. Aunt Willow smiled, recalling, "Oh yes! Such a wonderful boy, Nick is so excited to meet you, I know it!" 

I laughed, smiling awkwardly. She opened her arms, offering a hug. I accepted, not wanting to be rude. She smelled of wine and cigarettes. My uncle also gave me a hug, but not for long. He guided me to the car with a gentle hand on my back, explaining, "Have you eaten today? I'm sure you're starving. I know I'd rather starve than eat airplane food..." he mumbled the last part. 

My aunt chuckled, her voice reminding me of the way a rich 60's movie star would speak as she said, "Darling, give the boy a chance to speak!"

"No, it's alright, I have eaten, but that was... like nine hours ago?" I checked my phone, seeing it was still in UK time. 

"Ah yes, well you need to eat then. The flight from the UK to America is very brutal, I remember that much from when I was a young lad," he reminisced. 

"Those days are long gone, Andy," my aunt joked. 

"Well yes, when I met you I knew my travelling days were over."

"Naturally," she flashed a smile to me. 

I smiled back, already liking my aunt and uncle. They seemed fairly nice and personable. Once we got to the car after navigating the car park, I noticed it was a black BMW. I was a little worried to get in, since I wasn't used to riding in such nice cars. The last time I did, I was young and my dad was still alive and we had actual money. My uncle clicked a button on the key fob, the trunk opening slowly afterwards. As I was putting my suitcases in the car, I heard a boy around my age complaining, "What took you guys so long? I was about ready to fall asleep from boredommmm..."

"Hush Nick, you're alright," my aunt simply stated. 

I slammed the trunk shut, entering into the tan leather interior vehicle. It was a perfectly chill temperature, a stark contrast to the humid Florida air. I noticed the boy next to me, who I assumed to be Nick. He was around my height, except a bit taller. He had brown hair, similar to the color of mine. He was more tan, as he probably spent more time in the sun than I did myself. He had a broad build, making me think he was probably a sporty guy. He exclaimed, "Hey, I'm Nick!"

"What? I would've never guessed," I jokingly shot back. 

He crossed his arms, fake pouting. He yelled, "What the hell, you're already being mean!" 

We both laughed, his dad yelling at him for swearing. The car ride was very lively; everyone was talking around me, creating a positive and jovial atmosphere. I already felt at home, like I was a part of a normal family. Of course I still loved my mom, but this was different. 

\---

After dinner, Nick showed me to his room, which we would be sharing. Even though it was a large house and they only slept in two of the bedrooms, there were no extra rooms. One of the extra bedrooms was my uncle's office and there used to be a guest room but the wall connecting it to Nick's was torn down for the purpose of Nick having a larger room. 

The house itself was modern and in a middle class neighborhood; it sat on top of a hill, and had a pool in the backyard. The landscaping was also professionally done, as it had all these different types of tropical plants arranged in a neat and pristine fashion.

When I entered Nick's room, I saw there was a single bed which sat in the corner. It almost looked like a baby bed in comparison to Nick's own bed and the sheer size of the room itself. A large window covered by just as large blinds was placed in the back right of the room, next to a desk which had a gaming setup along with random papers and books. In the back left was a large bed, covered with black bed sheets. LED lights lined the top edges of the walls. Adorning the walls were some posters and a few medals, which seemed to be from different sports. My bed sat to the immediate right from the door, next to a walk in closet which sat to the left of it. I huffed, throwing my bag onto the small bed. Nick asked, "Why did you come here?"

"Hmm?" I asked, peeking through the blinds and out the large window. 

"Well, y'know, why did you come to America?" He asked, sitting on his swivel chair, his right foot propped on the edge of the wooden desk. 

"If I'm being truthful," I turned back to look at him, dropping a blind slat, "it's because my mom needs some time to... get in a better financial situation. Plus, she just thought it would be a good opportunity for me. Something about it looking good for college... yeah."

I sat down on the single bed, sinking into it's surprising cushiness. He chuckled, saying, "Well I hope you like it here. Just don't ever call me Nicholas, got it?" 

I giggled, falling back onto the bed next to my worn down bag. 

"Yeah, yeah I get it." 

"Good!" 

We talked some more, bantering a little bit. Soon, Nick asked, "Can I see your schedule? It would suck if we had all different classes."

I shrug, pulling out a crinkled vanilla colored paper. Nick snatched it from me, the smile on his face dropping when he read the classes I had. He then said, "Wait, these are all high level classes."

"And?" I asked, expecting there to be a backhanded comment coming my way. 

I crossed my arms, Nick looking back at me. He slowly said, "Well I thought you were going to be… I don't know, stupid… not a genius!"

"Oh my God you're so rude!" I yelled, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

He laughed, shoving the paper back to me. It was somehow even more crinkled from Nick manhandling it. He then said, "I think it's cool, even if you're a nerd…"

I rolled his eyes, flopping back onto the mattress and groaning. I shoved the schedule back into my bag, staring into the ceiling. 

After a few hours, it felt like Nick and I were already friends. It was extremely relieving, as I was expecting him to be a lot more reserved and rude. If anything, he seemed to be grateful to have someone else in his company. 

The next day was only a Sunday, so I still had time to mentally prepare for my first day at the new school. Constantly, I thought of the different types of people I would meet. The jocks, the class clowns; basically all of the stereotypical classes of people. I even imagined myself in a West Side Story or a Grease situation, where I would have a cheesy American high school romance story. My heart fluttered, thinking of all of the different possibilities and situations that would come my way in the following months leading to my graduation. 

Oh boy, was America going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**George's POV**

Nick turned haphazardly onto an adjacent road, almost hitting a traffic sign. I asked aggressively, "Nick what are you doing!?"

"I can't be late or I can't go to practice!"

"Well you can't go to practice if you KILL US!" I screech, gripping onto the "oh-shit" handle above the car door. 

The car wheels screeched in protest as we finally arrived in the parking lot. I sprinted to catch up to Nick, who was already halfway to the door. Exasperated, I complain, "why do you have to walk… so… fast!? Slow down!" 

"I have to get to class dude!" he replies, continuing his fast pace.

I felt frustrated as Nick left without directing me in any sort of direction to my new class. My fingers combed through my hair as I looked up from my schedule to see a tall brown haired boy standing in front of me. He asked in a British accent, "are you lost?" 

I avoided eye contact, looking past him to the lockers that sat across the hall. My chest felt like it was being squeezed as I softly replied, "Uhm, yeah…"

He turned himself so he was standing next to me. He bent over, squinting slightly and adjusting his wire framed glasses as he replied, "Oh, uh, that's just down that," he pointed to a hall to the immediate left, "hall there."

"Oh, thank you."

"No problem… Though I feel like I've seen you before. Did you used to go here?" He casually questioned. 

I furrowed my brows slightly, looking up to the taller boy. I answered, "Uhm, no."

He looked taken back, stepping back a bit. He simply said, "That's odd, you just looked familiar I guess. My name is Wilbur by the way."

"George."

The electronic beep from the bell cut our conversation short. Wilbur quickly said, "Well I've got to go, nice to meet you though."

"Yeah, you too?" I assured, even if he ran off before he could hear me. 

I ambled through the hall to my left, gingerly pushing open the door to the room. I didn't really mind being late; I had the excuse that I was the new kid and I couldn't find my way to class. 

Inside sat not very many students; the teacher gave me a shallow smile, her eyes reflecting anything else but happiness. She mumbled, "Hello Mr. Davidson, welcome to AP Physics. I don't expect you to be late from now on; please, take a seat next to Dave."

She pointed to a kid in the back with long flowing pink hair. He hesitantly moved his binder to the floor with a loud  _ plop _ , as it sat on my assigned seat. I nod my head, looking down to avoid the curious stares from my peers. Dave crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. In front of him sat a notebook which had messy notes and doodles that lined the margins. I fumbled with the zipper of my bag, taking out my own notebook from my other school and a pen. 

Dave looked over to my notes, scoffing. He mumbled under his breath, "who let  _ you _ into this class?"

I pretended not to hear him, but it internally hurt; why couldn't I get to sit next to someone who was decently nice? 

I felt my face get red of embarrassment, and I continually hid my notes throughout the class so I wouldn't hear any other backhanded comments from Dave. 

I could already tell this was going to be my new purgatory for the following months. 

\---

I slammed my locker, sighing as I told Nick, "I can't believe you just... ran off earlier!" 

"Oh yeah," he giggled, " sorry about that."

"Well, maybe you should've thought about that," I spat back, pulling my bag over my shoulder in an annoyed fashion. 

"Oh woah look man I'm sorry," Nick's tone fell serious. 

"Look it's," I trailed off before picking my thoughts back up, "it's fine. I just... I... I don't wanna be here anymore. It's already stressful enough that I don't know anyone except for you."

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't belong here, Nick," I mutter, looking away from him. 

Throughout most of my classes, and especially during lunch, I was stared at and mostly ignored. People didn't really care to talk to me as they had their own lives and their own friends. I didn't really fit anywhere; I was an outlier compared to every group. There was no reason to bring me in, I was a nobody. 

"What do you mean? I'm sure there is something here for you-" 

Nick stopped in his tracks, turning to face an announcement board that hung next to the main office. I furrowed my brows, asking, "What?"

I peer over his shoulder at what he was looking at. A rush of excitement coursed through him as he feverishly explained, "Dude! You could join the chess club! I mean it's perfect!" he pointed, shoving the paper into my hands, "They need another member, and you're super smart so you'd be so good."

I hesitated, running through the information presented on the poorly graphically designed advertisement. I shook my head, explaining softly, "Look, I don't think… I wouldn't… belong, Nick." 

I carefully tacked the paper to the announcements board, admiring my perfect placement among the other posters. He sighed, arguing, "Well, take it as a sign George; what is the likelihood we passed by this exact spot, where I noticed the poster, AND you were just saying about how you 'didn't belong'," he emphasized the "didn't belong" with air quotes. 

I opened my mouth, trying to come back with a rebuttal. No sound came out, leaving Nick to continue, "Just give it a chance. What would be the worst that could happen?" 

I shrugged, thinking over it for a minute. He did have a point; the worst that could happen is really nothing. A sudden wave of confidence washed over me as I stated, "I'm joining the chess club!" 

Nick cheered, "Fuck yeah dude!" 

He held up his hand for a high five which I graciously accepted with a beaming smile on my face. I heard a scoff next to me, and the Dave kid from earlier came up to us, his arms crossed as-per-usual. 

Nick asked, "Oh hey Technoblade, do you think George could join?"

He pointed over his shoulder to the chess club flyer hung neatly on the board. Dave chuckled, looking me up and down, flipping his long pink hair behind his shoulder. 

"Sure he could," Dave started, "But I don't think someone like  _ him  _ should join."

Nick became defensive and asked, "What!? Why?" 

"Well," he stepped closer to me, "I don't think he'd make a good addition if I'm being completely honest."

He towered over me; he was definitely over six foot, and I would be lying if I said that didn't intimidate me. I stuttered, "Can't… can't you just give me a chance?" 

He laughed a menacing laugh, contemplating. He smirked, replying, "You know what? Fine, I'll let you come to the first meeting. I think it'd be interesting to see you embarrass yourself."

"Dave, what are you doing? George is cool, don't be such a dick," Nick snapped. 

"Oh I'm just messing around with him, right George?" Dave asked, flashing me a glare as he patted me firmly on the shoulder. 

"Uhm… yeah. Yeah, it's cool Nick," I muttered, playing with my fingers as my nerves tensed all over my body, leaving an unpleasant tingly sensation. 

I looked past Nick, who quietly said, "Oh, alright then…" 

"Yep!" He said, continuing, "See you at practice Nick."

"Yeah." 

He waved to Nick, strolling towards the entrance of the building. I had no idea what to feel; why did I just lie on Dave''s behalf? What could he possibly do to me? 

Oh right, he's a lot bigger and more aggressive than me. That's why I was too scared to admit the truth. Nick asked, "Hey, you alright?" 

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Did you meet Techno before?" He asked casually as we leaned against the lockers. 

"Yeah, he's in most of my high-level classes. We sit together in the first period," I explained. 

"I see."

"Why is he even named Techno… blade? Technoblade?" I inquired. 

"Oh yeah," he chuckled, "it just kind of happened when we were all young. He had an obsession with dance music so at first we named him Techno, then later he became so 'big' and 'tough' after the summer into freshman year that we added 'blade' to the end."

He smiled to himself, reminiscing over fond past memories. I nodded, a little weirded out by the nickname. Nick redirected his attention to someone walking up to us. 

He waved with great alacrity, yelling, "Hey Dream!"

I looked up, my heart stopping as the tall blond flashed his eyes towards mine. I assumed they were green, but since I am colorblind I saw them yellow, like amber or like a feline. They seemed to cut deep into me as they trailed up and down my figure. The straw-like blond hair that sat aloof atop his head hung lackadaisical in front of those precious beautiful eyes. Brown dots, scattered like a galaxy, littered the ridges of his cheekbones and nose. A light dusting of tan sat complacently on his face, making him glow. My breathing hitched as my eyes followed the blond who walked towards Nick. 

He asked Nick, "Oh, is this your cousin?"

"Uh yeah," Nick replied. 

He turned to me, a light smirk dancing along his lips. Unlike Techno's, this one was welcoming and kind. He asked, "So, what's your name?"

"It's… it's George." 

"Nice, I like it," he winked, turning back to Nick. 

I felt like I was going to faint under the weight of the wink he sent my way. My face turned a bright shade of red, and to hide it I looked away and read the numbers on the lockers in my head, playing with my fingers. 

_ '1031', '1033', '1034'- _

My string of thought was broken when Dream asked, "So you want to join the chess club? That's awesome!" 

I looked up to him, his bright smile emanating a warm, cheerful mood. I smiled, replying, "Oh, yeah. I am." 

"Club meets directly after school in the library on Friday. Can't wait to see you there,  _ Georgie. _ " 

My breathing hitched as he gave me one last glance before telling Nick, "We have to go to practice Nick, c'mon!" 

Nick checked the time, a concern spreading over his face. He screeched, "We are gonna be late! I can't be late or I'm gonna get kicked from the team!" 

He dashed to the doors, pulling Dream along with him. The blond turned, giving me a small wave. I waved back, hiding my face in the sleeve of my hoodie. I took a second to breathe before I started my walk home. 

A blast of humid air ran over my face, leaving a layer of mist rest on my skin. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, already annoyed at the circumstances in which I had to walk. Although, the complaints I had for the weather were shoved out of my head by more intrusive thoughts of "Dream"--or who Nick called "Dream"--and how perfect he was. 

I gave one last look to the soccer field on my walk past, seeing players in similar uniforms rush around the bright green field. The swift sound of a ball being kicked into a net and a coaches whistle invaded the peaceful quiet. 

Maybe high school wasn't going to be so bad after all. 


	3. 2|Seems Oddly Familiar-NO WAY|

**Wilbur’s Point of View**

I will forever be thankful for how close my family lives to the school (well, we don’t live that close, but it’s close enough to walk without destroying my lungs). My parents were yet to get comfortable with my younger brother, Tommy, walking home by himself from his soccer practices (thinking of the team made my heart swell. My baby brother was a Freshman. On the Varsity Soccer Team. Proud brother moment). So, it was my responsibility to walk back to the building and pick him up. I didn’t mind at all, the walks were our best bonding moments!

As I approached the building, I pulled out my phone to text Tommy, letting him know I was there, and waiting at the bleachers on the other side of the field with the practice soccer fields on it.

_ You _

_ 4:55 pm _

_ Hey, Toms. I’m waiting by the bleachers for you. _

_ Tommy _

_ 4:57 pm _

_ On my way, Big Man. Be there in two. _

After reading the response from Tommy, I pocketed my phone and sat on the top bleacher. I wasted the last few minutes watching the nature around me. I loved my younger brother, I really did. But it didn’t leave a lot of time for enjoying the peace and serenity of nature around me. The silence didn’t last too long, though. Tommy could be heard yelling his goodbyes to his teammates from across the field.

At the sight of my blond brother, I stood up and stepped off the bleachers, landing on the ground below me. Nothing could ever prepare me for the daily greeting I get from Tommy when the team splits up to leave.

“Wilbur, my man!” Tommy called to me from across the field, jogging over to match me stride for stride, heading for home.

“You looked too peaceful. I had to mess that up for you!”

“I’m sure you did, Tommy,” I responded with a chuckle, pulling Tommy to my side with an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, did you see the new kid that showed up today? He’s British, too. Must be from the UK.”

“No, I didn’t,” Tommy responded, his excited energy suddenly dying down. 

“Did you talk to him? Get his name, or something?” he asked shortly after.

“Yeah, I showed him to his class, too. He told me his name was George-” I stopped dead in my tracks. George. No way. “...George. British accent. Fuck.. I didn’t even notice it was  _ that _ George! I can’t believe he didn’t recognize me! I.. I can’t believe we didn’t take the time to catch up-”

“And why the hell would you?” Tommy asked angrily, “He completely forgot you existed as soon as we left London. He doesn’t deserve to have a friend like you, if he can’t even bother to write to you after promising. He promised you, Wilbur! He promised you, and he lied. Lying is unforgivable.” 

“Tommy, that was years ago,” I responded to Tommy with a sigh, “I’m sure George doesn’t even remember that. We were also like, ten, when we moved. He probably made a promise that would not have been able to be kept. I mean.. He didn’t exactly have access to mailing. He was ten. I was ten.”

“Need I remind you, Dickhead, that you cried for  _ weeks _ when you accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to write to you? I sat with you in your room for weeks, when you figured that out. It wasn’t fair to you. While he moved on and made new best friends, he abandoned his first one and forgot he existed.”

I hesitated for a moment. Tommy was right with that one. I remembered it vividly; sobbing my little heart out for so long after we had moved in, because I finally had accepted that George was never going to speak to me again. But I had a thing for seeing the best in people. I always have; or at least tried to. 

“It’s in the past, Tommy. People change and grow up, you know that. I remember a certain someone who told me he’d never play a sport because it ‘produced cocky assholes’, and here we are.”  
  
“But this is different, Wilby! He hurt you! He hurt you, and couldn’t care less!”

I flinched a bit at the nickname. Tommy only ever used the nickname in public when he was passionate or emotional about something. Where the line was in this case, however, I may never know.

“Tommy, I appreciate the concern, but that’s over. Let it go, it’s in the past. I’m over it, and for your own sake, I think you need to be, too.”

“That’s not fair, Wilbur! He gets to freely hurt you over and over, and you’re letting him do it? Where are your priorities? What about your feelings? Yours matter, too!”

“Tommy, drop it,” I snapped, nearly apologizing when Tommy pulled away from my side.

I really, really hated getting upset with Tommy, but it’s the only way he’d listen. “Just.. Let it go. I’m over it. It was too long ago to hold a grudge anymore. Sometimes, battles aren’t started to be fought. Sometimes, war isn’t worth waging.”

The rest of the walk home was too quiet; too tense. I hated the discomfort more than I hated when Tommy took my guitar and music book (and boy, did that ruffle my feathers). The two of us don’t work with tense situations. I needed to break the ice.

“Hey,” I started quietly, “Mom and Dad are heading out tonight for dinner with some work executives. How about you and I spend some much needed quality time together? We could watch that movie you keep bugging me to watch, and I can make us something.”

The smile and light in Tommy’s eyes broke the tension. I loved that light. “Really?! Finally! Yes!”

That’s exactly what we did. We spent the evening together, watching terrible movies and eating pizza, and if my mind veered off in a different direction; sidetracked by the thought that my childhood best friend moved to America and has yet to speak full sentences to me; well, Tommy didn’t need to know that. 

\---

**Phil's POV**

I stood with Techno at a vintage arcade machine in an arcade downtown. We usually hung out after school and after different clubs/activities if we had built-up stress we needed to relieve. In this case, it was Techno who asked to hang out. 

He pressed a few buttons in succession, fumbling on the last combo move. A message on the screen flashed:  _ 'You died! Insert coin in 20 seconds to resume.' _

He groaned, slamming his hand against the worn machine. I leaned against the arcade game next to it, wondering what had gotten into him lately. Usually, he wasn't so quiet; at least around me. He was also a lot more aggressive than usual. His face was contorted into a slight frown, more apparent when his character died. I asked, "Did you want to get pizza, Techno?" 

He shrugged, walking towards the concessions counter at the front of the arcade. I asked, following along behind him, "What's up with you lately?" 

Once again, he shrugged, answering, "I don't know. Just not having a good day."

I stopped him, pulling him back by his jacket. I said, "Do you expect me to believe that?" 

He shook off my grip, continuing to walk to the concessions with his hands resting in the pockets of his worn down jacket. I sighed, following closely behind. No one was in line, so he quickly ordered whatever he was getting, standing near the "pick-up" window. 

I wasn't going to let him weasel his way out of the conversation. I knew that something was bothering him and I couldn't let him internalize his emotions; way too many times has that led to him making drastic decisions with little forethought. 

He slid the tray onto the table, which held two slices of pepperoni pizza and a large paper container of crinkle-cut fries drenched in ketchup. I gratefully slid one of the paper plates off of the tray, taking a small bite of the greasy, cheesy, and savory slice. Techno took one of the fries, popping it into his mouth. I set the slice down, reassuring him, "You can always talk to me, you know that right?" 

Techno rubbed his face in aggravation, replying as calmly as he could, "I… I know Phil. What I'm thinking… it's stupid."

"I don't care, Techno. Just tell me. Please," I beg in a soft, welcoming tone. 

His face planted into the palms of his hands, resting both elbows onto the table. He mumbled, "The new kid. He's the problem."

My face contorted in confusion as I took a bite of one of the tasteless fries carelessly covered in condiments. I asked, "What about him?" 

He looked up to me, playing with the ends of his hair as he exclaimed, "I don't know Phil… I just have a bad feeling about him that I can't seem to shake." 

"What did he do?" I wondered. 

"Nothing… well nothing yet. He joined the chess club. Just something about him… he doesn't sit right with me," he looked off into the distance, hurt filling the hollow pupils of his eyes. 

"Are you scared he's going to take your place?" I blurted out absentmindedly. 

"What!? No! Are you even taking this seriously?" He yelled to me. 

I held up my hands defensively, responding, "Woah, calm down, I'm sorry. I am taking this seriously Techno, but you have to, too. That means telling me everything."

"Yeah, I know. Just… just drop it, alright? I came here to stop thinking about the new kid," he mumbled the last part, obviously hurt by any mention of the new kid. 

I sighed, returning to the ambrosial pizza slice in front of me. A chilling silence lingered between us as we ate. I slowly drifted into my thoughts, worried about my best friend. His deleterious behavior would only get worse if I didn't intervene, but on the other hand he would lash out if I did push him too far. With Techno, I had to take small steps, almost like walking on eggshells. 

I wasn't sure what was going to happen in the chess club on Friday, but for once I regretted not signing up. I didn't know what Techno was going to do, but what worried me the most was I couldn't be there to help him.


	4. 3|Don't Gamble Your Position, Kids|

**George's POV**

I checked the clock on the wall of my last period class; only around ten minutes left until it ended. Or rather, ten minutes until a new beginning. It was the day of the chess club, and admittedly I was partly scared and partly excited.

Floris--or "Fundy"--sat next to me on his laptop. Nick explained to me where his nickname came from. From what I could remember, he told me that a substitute teacher mispronounced his name to "Fundy" so as a joke people just started calling him that. Eventually the nickname just stuck and no one really calls him by his real name. The people in this school had a thing for nicknames, it seemed. 

This class was a study hall, but I had all my work done so time seemed to slow to a grueling pace. I glanced over to what he was doing, which was some sort of coding project. His desktop was highly cluttered, and he fumbled through the different tabs to find what he was looking for. He noticed me staring and said, "Hello… George right?" 

I quickly looked at the desk, playing with my fingers. I replied, "Uhm, yeah… haha."

He then said, "Well, I'm Fundy. You don't have to be so shy, I don't bite… even though people call me a furry. So I guess I could bite like a dog..."

I giggled, returning my gaze to his eyes. He smiled, and I asked, "What are you doing?" 

His smile dropped slightly as he returned his attention to the text document in front of him. He said, "Well, I'm supposed to make a program for my coding class, like a plug-in, and I've been trying to find the syntax error but I can't see it."

I leaned over, my eyes scanning the lines. I pointed to the screen, explaining, "On line 57 you didn't add a parenthesis. Oh and here too on line 60."

His smile widened as he gratefully changed the mistakes I pointed out. He exclaimed, "Thank you so much! I've been stressing over this for so long." 

"No problem!" I replied casually, returning the smile. 

"You're actually not too bad, George," he stated. 

"Well thank you," I awkwardly said. 

The loud, electronic beep of the school bell rang through the silence of the classroom. Everyone stood up on cue, piling together their items and leaving in a somewhat uniform fashion out of the classroom. I gathered my stuff from my locker, texting Nick that he doesn't have to wait for me since I had the club meeting. 

"Hey Georgie, are you still going to the meeting?" 

I jumped, looking up to see Dream (or Clay, which I heard was his real name). He had a small smile on his face and he was dressed in a green hoodie, which seemed to be his usual apparel. 

For the past couple of days, I had been seeing him around, but I was oftentimes too anxious to start a conversation with him. On top of that, he was one of the most popular boys in school. For once, he didn't have a group of people around him. I often found myself in a daydream about Dream and I together, quickly snapping out of it. I didn't want to fall deeply in love with someone who I barely knew; it would be disappointing if I made him and expected him to be the person in my head when he was someone else. 

"Oh did I scare you? I'm sorry about that," he apologized, scratching the back of his neck. 

I smiled, reassuring him, "Yes, but it's fine." 

He nodded, inquiring, "Did you want to walk with me? To the meeting? I mean that is if… if you're… going right? I mean if you're not going that's fine, it's just-" 

I giggled and cut him off, "Yes, I'll walk with you, Dream."

"Good."

I slammed my locker shut, following Dream closely to the library. 

He asked, "So, what made you come here?"

I contemplated what I wanted to tell him because I couldn't tell him the full truth about my family. At least not yet. I partially answered, "My mom said it would look good on my college application, and my aunt and uncle already lived here so I came here in a foreign exchange program. To be honest, I didn't really want to come to Florida of all states; why couldn't I be somewhere not so warm? Like Pennsylvania or whatever it's called?"

I laughed softly, Dream arguing, "To be fair… to be fair we don't get snow!" 

"True, and that's about all you've got going for you guys."

"Wellll you met me, I would say that's probably the best thing that could've happened to you," he smirked at the end of his sentence, looking me in the eyes as we were walking. 

My eyes opened wider out of shock and I looked away, a blush creeping its way into prominence on my cheeks. I joked, "That's another thing: all of the people here are egotistical!" 

He laughed, his laughing turning into a slight wheeze. Little did I know, I would fall even further for him because of that jovially pleasant laugh. It was something not many had, but it was the type of laugh that could make you develop into a laughing fit of your own. 

"Oh c'mon now  _ Georgie _ , I know you love it," emphasizing the "Georgie". 

"In your dreams, maybe."

He scoffed lightheartedly, pushing the door open to the large school library. In the corner sat a few chess boards, accompanied by a few tables. In the middle of the library were more tables but they weren't reserved for the club like the corner tables seemed to be. A few people sat at the tables, probably waiting for Dream who was the president. 

Techno sat in the corner, his arms crossed and his back leaning against the chair. A younger boy with brown hair sat at one of the chairs, texting on his phone, who I believed to be Toby. An older boy sat in front of him with slightly longer brunette hair and wire framed glasses. He was writing something down passionately in a small journal. His name was Darryl, but everyone referred to him as "Bad" because it was highly ironic; Bad was easily the most wholesome guy around. Next to him was a guy with dark brown hair and nice eyebrows. He had a darker skin tone from the rest mentioned. He continually tried to mess with Bad next to him; his name was Zak. Fundy sat diagonal from Techno, still glued to his computer as he typed out lines of code. Lastly, another male with brown hair and glasses sat at one of the seats across from Techno, reading a book which seemed to be in French. He was another foreign exchange student, and he went by the name of Vincent. 

Dream pulled me with him in front of the tables, announcing, "We have a new member joining us today!" 

He motioned for me to introduce myself, to which I awkwardly waved and smiled. I mumbled, "Hello… uhm… my name is George."

"Hi George!" Bad yelled, beaming at me. He then said to Zak, "Move, I wanna sit next to George, you muffin!"

"What? No?" Zak exclaimed, confused by his request. 

"Please?" Bad pleaded, Zak sighing and moving to sit next to Techno. 

Toby laughed at the two, returning to his activities on his phone. Bad cheered and commanded, "Oo sit next to me George!" 

I giggled, smiling at his kind and accepting behavior. It wasn't a joke when people said he was wholesome. 

Dream then said, "Now that we got that settled, we have to prepare for the competition, coming up. I think that maybe-" 

Techno cut him off, "I think we should see how the  _ new kid  _ is first."

Everyone looked at him, a little surprised he spoke up. I sunk down in my seat, worried by what he was going to say. Dream, confused, lowered his voice and asked Techno, "So how do you think we should do that?" 

He shrugged, redirecting his attention to me. He smirked, suggesting, "a game of chess between George and I. Of course, I don't expect him to win his first game, but we could at least see what he could do."

Dream looked at me, shrugging. Bad spoke up, adding, "It's not a bad idea. We do need to get better before the competition at the end of the year. I mean what better way than to see what he's bad at?" 

"Sure then," he said, handing me a wooden chess board.

Techno moved seats to sit in front of me and next to Toby. Fundy gathered around us to watch the game, and so did Zak. Vincent, unbothered, returned to his French book. Bad continued to write in his journal, also not very interested in the game that was about to take place.

My hands shook wildly as I set up the pieces. Techno gave me a smug grin, carefully analyzing everything I did even though the game didn't start yet. After I set it up, Techno allowed me to go first. 

Swiftly, Techno took confident moves, along with stupid mistakes. He really did assume that I was not very well-versed on the game of chess. In a quick manner, I managed to put him in a sticky situation. The people around us watched silently, Dream looking at the game over my shoulder. 

Techno's cocky demeanor quickly turned into shambles when he saw the mistake he made. He leaned forward, focusing on the game. Soon enough, I took one of my pieces and knocked over one of his, declaring, "Checkmate," with a shit-eating grin. 

Toby yelled, "Oh my God, I can't believe he just beat Techno!" 

Fundy responded, "Yeah, I know. He's like the best player here, other than Dream."

Dream declared, "Good job George! You definitely deserve a spot in our club."

I thanked him, Techno's face pulled into a livid frown. I caught eye-contact with him, and his glare made a pit form at the bottom of my stomach. It was unhinging how anxious he could make me with just a simple look. My smile dropped, Techno exclaiming, "Wait."

"Hmm?" Dream asked. 

"I have a proposition for you, George," Techno said. 

"Wha...what is it?" 

"Well," he leaned forward, offering, "If you beat me again, I will give you my position as Vice President. If I win, then you have to quit the club." 

His egotistical mindset was disgustingly noticeable when he offered me the deal. 

"Techno, are you insane!?" Toby asked, his voice cracking midway through the sentence. 

"You can't just force someone out of the club for losing to you," Fundy argued. 

Dream stated, "Yeah, I don't think you should just gamble your position like that, I mean who-"

"I'll do it. That is, if he's up for it," I simply stated, cutting Dream off. 

Techno then said, "So be it."

He reached his hand across the table, shaking hands with me (might I add, a little too firmly) and resetting the pieces on the board. Dream asked me quietly, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm positive," I whispered back. 

Tense silence fell among the attendees of the meeting. Each sound of the pieces clinking together or the movement of chairs was deafeningly loud. A soft ticking of a wall clock echoed in the library. 

My heartbeat raced as I started to regret my decision; it wasn't that I was in a bad place in the game, but I was definitely at a bad place mentally. I wasn't sure what Techno would do if I DID win; would he dislike me even more? What would that mean if he did? 

Then again, if I threw the game, what would be the chance of me being able to talk to Dream again, other than through Nick? 

So many possibilities of different scenarios coursed through my brain, dancing alongside possible chess moves that I could make. He put me into check, which I quickly countered, reversing the check onto him. I was worried that I just messed up; was it really a fluke that I won the first game against him? Techno was an advanced player, and he was definitely a challenging opponent. 

His only weakness, though, was the overconfidence in the movement of his pieces. Soon enough, it was my turn. 

_ Clink. _

Techno threw himself back in his chair, groaning in frustration while covering his face with his hands. Everyone looked to Dream, whose eyes evaluated the board. He slowly said, "Yeah… George checkmated Techno."

Bad stopped writing, looking up. He asked, "So what does that mean?" 

Toby thought out loud, "Well, they did agree that if Techno lost, he would give up his position to George. It's only fair that they keep the promise, right?" 

Vincent finally looked up from his book, watching us from the other table. Dream then said, "Well I guess George is our new vice president. Right Techno?" 

"A deal is a deal, I guess," he mumbled, standing up and grabbing his backpack. 

Fundy asked, "Where are you going? We still have like an hour left Techno!"

Techno turned and lifted up his hand over his shoulder, signalling a goodbye. Zak joked, "Well that was dramatic."

"You could say that again," Vincent mumbled from behind his book. 

"Well… what do we do now Clay?" Bad asked thoughtfully. 

"Uhm, I don't know… I'm just going to end the meeting early I guess. We need to talk about this later, Bad," he groaned, running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

Vincent stood up and promptly gathered his things, humming a simple tune as he left the library. 

Fundy followed soon behind, yelling for Vincent to wait up. Meanwhile, Bad exclaimed, "Congrats George!" 

"Yes, congratulations George," Dream repeated, smiling softly. 

Zak added, "You should teach me some of those strategies; Dream tried to teach me before but he got too frustrated."

Dream interjected, "To be fair, YOU got frustrated with ME because I was going 'too fast'."

Zak argued, "But you were!" 

I laughed, replying, "I can help you Zak."

"Really!? That'd be amazing," he chuckled. 

Bad then said, "Zak we have to go, you said you'd drop me off at home!"

"Ugh yeah, fine. See you guys later!" Zak cheered, being dragged out of the library by Bad. 

I chuckled, turning my attention to Dream. His bright smile beamed down at me. 

"Here we are," he said, sitting in the seat next to me that Bad once occupied. 

"Yes... here we are," I reiterated. 

"Well… did you want to hang out tomorrow? I would love to get to know the vice president of the chess club better," he smirked, confident in his words. 

I nod my head almost immediately, Dream's smile widening at my answer. I asked, "What do you have planned?" 

"Oh, nothing in particular…" he let out a small giggle, "but just think of it as a surprise. I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon, alright?" 

He bit his lip, his eyes flickering from my lips to my eyes. 

The way his teeth gripped the skin of his bottom lip melted me like a wax candle. I nod once again, too anxious and starstruck to spill any words. He patted my shoulder, grabbing his bag and giving me a small wave as he left the library. 

I let go of the breath I was holding, sinking down into the library chair. I hid my face in my hands, replaying the scene in my head over and over again. I slowly regained my composure, texting Nick to pick me up. I threw my phone onto the table, lightly laughing to myself. 

_ How did I get so lucky?  _


	5. 4|"Just Friends" Hangout|

**George's POV**

I rummaged through the contents of my suitcase, searching for the perfect thing to wear. I threw a few of my clothes on the ground, huffing when I couldn't find exactly what I wanted. Nick chuckled, asking, "What are you doing George? You're making a mess!" 

He entered the room, taking a sip of his Redbull. He plopped down in his desk chair, spinning around to watch me. I groaned, replying while searching through my suitcase, "I'm… looking for something… to wear! What does it look… like?" 

I pulled out a shirt at the bottom, too exhausted to search for a different one. Nick laughed, shaking his head. I checked my phone, noticing that Dream would be arriving soon. 

"I'm leaving soon, so… yeah."

"Oh? Does Georgie Worgie have a date with a girl?" He cooed, laughing afterwards. 

I didn't even entertain Nick by fighting back; I stayed silent, contemplating whether I should tell him or not. For the past week, he had been very kind and welcoming to me, although other times he could be a bit of an idiot. I hesitated, but decided that he deserved to know. 

"Nick I… I'm gay," I blurted out, my chest squeezing under the force of the silence that followed. 

I didn't dare to look at Nick in fear he wouldn't accept me. A very noticeable shift in the atmosphere took place. 

"So, who is the lucky guy you're going out with?" He asked casually, turning his attention to his computer. 

I sighed out of relief, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. I snapped back lightheartedly, "I'm going to only hangout with Dream you idiot."

"Whatever you say, loverboy," he mumbled, typing something on his loud clicking keyboard. 

Before I left the room to change, he yelled, "I'm going to Karl's for the night!" 

"Alright!" I yelled back. 

Soon enough, I changed into my clothes, looking at myself in the mirror. I smiled at myself, somewhat pleased with appearance; nothing could take me off of the high I was on. I was going to hang out with  _ Dream.  _

I hummed a joyful tune as I skipped down the stairs, opening the front door gingerly. Aunt Willow was outside, smoking a cigarette in a patio chair. She gave me a tired smile, flicking the cigarette. 

"Hello Aunt Willow!" I cheered. 

"What has you in such a good mood today?" She asked playfully, tiredness lacing her voice. 

"Nothing in particular…" I grin, playing with my fingers. 

I saw a red pick-up truck pull up in the driveway, loud music booming from the interior of the red automobile. Aunt Willow asked, "Oh, can you tell Nick that Clay is here?" 

"Oh uhm… I… Clay and I are going to hang out," I explained, embarrassed. 

She sighed, her smile faltering as she replied, "OH… oh okay. I am so sorry George. Have fun, will you? It's good to see you making friends."

"Uhm… thank you…" I muttered, turning quickly. 

Dream and I locked eyes through the windshield. A celestial smile brightened the features of his face. He reached over the cabin of the truck, pushing open the door. 

"Watch your step," he warned. 

"Thank you."

I quickly hoisted myself up into the passenger seat, closing the door after me. He turned down the pounding music, asking, "Are you hungry?" 

"Truthfully, I just woke up an hour ago or so… so yes," I laughed. 

He smiled, nodding and agreeing, "Same. I've got a place for us to go."

He put the car into reverse, turning it around in the wide driveway and screeching to a stop at the end. He definitely liked to speed; there was no question about it. It made me wonder if all Americans liked larged cars and going way too fast for their own wellbeing. 

Dream's face fell into a permanent smirk as he focused on driving. The wind from the cracked window caught his hair and pulled it back lightly, making him look omnipotent. I started to count the freckles on his right cheek, making it to a count of 37 before Dream glanced over to me momentarily, asking, "Do you like what you see?" 

A toothy grin replaced his smirk, leaving me to roll my eyes at his comment. Internally, it was a different story. My stomach was doing flips and turns at the distinct flirtatiousness of his tone. We fell into more silence except for the light music in the background; this time to entertain myself, I guessed the personality traits of different people I saw on the sidewalk. 

Dream began to parallel park recklessly, not really having any regard for the cars trying to park around him. I pointed out, "You should be careful Dream! You're gonna crash if you're this reckless…" 

He turned off the engine, which turned off the music in tandem. He replied, "c'mon now George, I have never crashed. I'm an amazing driver."

"I find that hard to believe." 

He laughed, getting out of the truck. I did the same, following him around the car to the sidewalk. He then motioned to the café, mentioning, "You can get anything you want; I'm paying." 

"Wow, thank you Dream!" I giggled, making my way inside of the brick building. 

The inside consisted of mostly neutral tones and splashes of green--or what I guessed to be green--in the form of vivacious plants that lined the counter and the two storefront windows. Around six tables were strewn in no particular order across the expansion of the café. To the right of the register was a display case that was filled to the brim with cakes and other French pastries. 

Dream pushed past me, asking, "What did you want?" 

I felt slightly bad about ordering anything too expensive since he was paying, so I opted for something small. We politely waited for the cashier to come back, and when he did, I was shocked as to who it was. 

"Bad!? You work here?" I exclaimed. 

He chuckled, answering, "Yes, I do! What do you guys want to order?" 

He took a kitchen rag and wiped the counter from a coffee ring that was left on it. Dream then said, "Surprise me Bad." 

I was surprised at his spontaneity, but I happily followed along by saying, "You know what? Me too."

Bad laughed, pushing some buttons on the register and stating, "Uhm, I won't charge you for this. Don't worry about it!"

"Won't you get in trouble?" I asked, worried for my new friend. 

"His dad is the boss," Dream laughed lightly. 

"Yeah. I make most of the stuff here so it's partly my business too!" he exclaimed, beaming at me with a bright smile. 

He turned, going to go make our drinks. Soon enough, he returned with an iced green tea and a warm beverage of sorts. He also gave us a large paper bag filled with plenty of sweet treats, most of them being different varieties of muffins. Bad then said, "I hope you guys like it! I just made the chocolate chip ones!" 

We gave Bad our 'thank yous' and sat at a table near a corner. I sat across from Dream, digging into one of the muffins and taking a sip of my tea. His eyes seemed to follow everything I did, a smile forming on his face. A blush creeped on my face, making it glow a soft pink. He chuckled, grabbing a muffin out of the bag. I asked, "What are you laughing at?"

"You."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah just… you're just really cute right now," he bluntly mumbled. 

"Thanks…" I muttered back, shoving some more of a muffin into my mouth. 

We fell into a comfortable lull of the conversation as we continued to indulge in the delectable treats that Bad gave us. Dream's comment kept replaying over and over in my head. I couldn't shake it; there is no way he didn't like me. No friend just says that to their other friend. 

Even if he did like me back, did I want to risk it? It being the relationship we have now as just friends? 

The answer I was unclear of, but I had little time to think about it as Dream was dragging me down the sidewalk and to an arcade nearby. 

\---

**Phil's POV**

"He really did that?" I asked, bewildered. 

"Yeah, he just… well he just took the vice presidency away from me!" Techno grumbled, slamming his hand against the same arcade machine as last time. 

The same message flashed on the screen, signalling his character died. 

"Well how did 'the new kid' do that?" I asked. 

"It's not important Phil; just know that he is not a good person. I spent so much time trying to get to the spot of vice president just for him to screw it all up," Techno sighed, inserting another arcade token into the slot of the machine. 

I had no other reason than to believe him; I knew that Techno didn't lie to me, as he knew he had no reason to. Something In the back of my mind though told me Techno brought this onto himself because of his very obvious jealousy for the recent UK exchange student. 

I sighed, returning my attention to my own game next to him. 

\---

**George's POV**

Dream dragged me around the arcade, eventually landing eyes on a claw machine game. I laughed as he excitedly exclaimed, "I'm gonna win you something… just give me a second!" 

He took one of the tokens from his token cup, inserting it into the bright red claw game. I watched the focused expression on his face as he successfully managed to grab a gray cat plush that was sitting on top of the mound of plushies. I yelled, "Oh my God, you're popping off!" 

He wheezed, dropping the plush into the square hole in the bottom left corner of the machine. He bent down, grabbing it from the flap. He looked at it, turning it around to hand it to me. I graciously took it, looking at how absolutely adorable it was. I absentmindedly stated, "I miss my cat back home, he looked like this." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a cat! I have one too!" He exclaimed, smiling brightly at me. 

I softly smiled, remembering my pets back home. I wondered if they knew how long I was going to be gone for, or if they already forgot about me. 

I hugged the plushie, following Dream to a new game.

\---

**Dream's POV**

George hugged the plushie I gave him, giving me pure serotonin. The Brit was just so cute, it hurt my heart but in a good way. 

I turned the corner, noticing Techno and Phil at some of the more vintage games. I smiled, yelling, "Hey Techno, Phil!" 

Techno turned around, confused about who was calling him. He didn't smile but he mumbled, "Hallo," before returning to his game. 

Phil came up to me and we did a special handshake that we made up a couple years ago. Techno scoffed, "You guys still do that stupid handshake?" 

"Maybe if you had friends Techno you could have one too!" I joked. 

Techno scoffed, dying in his game. 

I noticed George awkwardly standing off to the side, texting someone while his plush was wedged between his left arm and torso. I called him over, "Hey George, come here! Have you met Phil yet?"

He put away his phone, hesitantly standing next to me. He mumbled, "No, I haven't."

Techno turned around, crossing his arms and leaning against the game he was just playing. Awkward silence lingered between us all as I tried to find something to say. I slowly tested my words, wondering, "So, did you guys want to hang out with George and I?" 

Techno laughed, taunting us, "Oh, we wouldn't want to intrude on your date." 

Phil added, "I think we would rather not."

I nodded slowly, wondering why they were being so cryptically rude. George spoke up, clarifying, "It… it's not a date…"

Techno chuckled, leaning close to George and saying, "Speak up, I can't hear you. Too good to speak to us?" 

I was utterly confused as to what they were doing. Usually Techno was awkward around new people, but he was never inherently rude. Phil definitely wasn't rude, so what was the problem? Was it the fact that George took his place as vice president? 

The small brunette looked down in the presence of Techno, very obviously frustrated and scared. A bright red embarrassment painted the features of his face. I spoke up, pushing Techno back, "Techno, knock it off. Can't you see he doesn't like that?" 

A bitterness coated his words as he spat back, "just take your boyfriend and go. I don't want to see you, or especially him around here anymore. Alright?" 

Phil stood idly by, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. 

I had no idea what was going on with Techno. We were friends, and we had been for a long time; why would he all of a sudden end our friendship over my new friend? 

"Whatever Techno. Don't expect to get your position back ever in the club,  _ ever _ ." 

I let go of the grip I had on his hoodie, grabbing George's wrist and leaving. 

The irony of the situation was I was going to have George relinquish the position back to Techno to make sure it was fair, but now I really didn't want to do that for him. If anything, George deserved it more than he did.

\---

**George's POV**

My heart was still throbbing, creating a rhythmic beat against my breastbone in my chest. Dream took us back to the car in silence. Unlike previous times, this silence was unbearable. He looked shaken up at what Techno had said; afterall I was pretty sure they were friends. 

When we got into the car, Dream tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, apologizing, "I'm sorry for what he said George… I didn't think they would be like that." 

I started to play with my fingers, looking down at the ground. I replied, "No, I should be sorry… I didn't mean to ruin your friendship or whatever with Techno…"

"George, that's not important… look at me," he commanded. 

I turn my head, looking into his eyes. 

"I want you to promise me that if Techno or Phil ever bother you again, you have to tell me, alright?"

"Dream…"

"Please George…" his voice broke into a softer one. 

I nodded lightly, "Okay Dream."

"Good." 

"Can you take me back to Nick's, Dream? I think I had enough social interaction for the day," I joked, returning my attention to the window. 

"Of course."

Dream turned on the music, turning it up to an extreme level. I drifted off into my own world, imaging a perfect world where Dream and I didn't run into Techno. Would we still be at the arcade? Would we be in some flower field watching the sunset? 

So many possibilities, but for some reason we got the one possibility where our "hangout" would be ruined by Techno and Phil.

Dream dropped me off along the sidewalk that extended in front of my aunt and uncle's house. Before I shut the door, I said, "Thank you for today Dream, I had fun."

"I really like hanging out with you. Maybe we could do it again sometime," he replied, giving me a soft grin. 

"Of course." 

I slammed the door after me, carrying my plushie inside. Slowly, I trudged up the stairs and to Nick's room. I sighed, flopping back onto the bed. 

As I was coming in and out of sleep, I kept referring back to what Dream said to me in the café, and not too long ago when we were sitting together in the car. He told me I was cute, and that he'd basically protect me; maybe he was actually interested in pursuing a relationship. 

I smiled, finally falling into a sleep, forgetting about th e scene Techno made at the arcade and replacing those thoughts with images of Dream. 


	6. 5|Fresh Hell Awaits Us All In School|

George's POV

The loud bell jolted me out of the concentration I was pouring into my math test. I fumbled to pack everything up, dropping all of my papers onto the ground. I sighed, everyone around me gave me a pity glance or just straight up ignored me. I bent down, scrambling to pick up the scattered papers. Someone stood in front of me, asking, "Did you need any help?" 

"No, no I should be good-" 

I looked up, stopping mid-sentence when I noticed it was the blond boy I had grown to love. I smiled, rising to a full stance with some papers in my hand. He grinned, picking up the rest of the papers anyways. I asked, "What are you doing here? You don't have this class, I thought you had lunch."

He stood up, beaming down at me. He replied, "Yes, but I was wondering if you would sit with me and my friends at lunch." 

"Uhm… I don't know Dream, I don't really belong in that scene…" I explained. 

As I organized my papers on a nearby desk, Dream rested one of his hands on it, towering over me. I looked up to him, our faces close in proximity. He then pleaded softly, a small smile ghosting the corners of his lips, "C'mon George, I think people will love you. Please?" 

And that's how I got roped into joining Dream at the "elites" table. 

It was highly difficult to say no, as my mind seemed to fill with only thoughts of leaning forward and kissing him. I imagined the way his lips would taste or feel against my own; perhaps they were soft, or they were firm and tasted of strawberries. Even the mere thought of being so close to Dream was enough to send me into a full gay panic. In my flustered state, I seemed to forget that I was in high school and that just randomly sitting with popular kids would cause some sort of “social imbalance”. I wasn’t a big fan of people talking about me, even if it was good things. It just fueled my anxiety and made it impossible to focus on anything else.

I trailed silently behind Dream as he took me to the popular kids’ table. Jimmy took notice of me as we sat down, greeting me, “Oh hello, you must be George!”

I didn’t think he would actually know my name, so it threw me off-guard. I asked, “You… you know my name?”

Chris laughed, joking, “Don’t tell me you think Jimmy is some... God too…”

“Chris!” Jimmy laughed, looking back to me and adding, “Yes, I do know your name. Maybe if Dream didn’t start talking about you all the time…”

“No, no don’t take that out of context-” Dream wheezed, breaking his sentence. 

I laughed as well, unable to keep silent since Dream’s wheeze was so amusing. He explained frantically, “Look… I just… I got really excited about… about you just winning against Techno so I was just telling these guys about you…”

“Aw don’t worry Dream, I know you’re a simp for me,” I joked, taking a sip of my chocolate milk. 

Chandler didn’t seem to expect me to say that because he spit milk out of his nose. Chris gasped, mad at Chandler because some of his milk spray landed on his tray. Annoyed, Chris stood up to throw away the soiled food. Meanwhile, Jimmy asked, “Hey did you want to come to my party this Friday?”

“M… me?” I pointed to myself, looking around me.

He chuckled, Dream replying, “Yes, you. Who else?”

I raised my voice an octave, justifying myself, “Well I don’t know! I don’t know who could’ve been sitting next to me at that moment!”

Dream laughed, Jimmy taking a bite of the sad looking school ham sandwich. 

Chandler sat back in his chair, slumping forward as if he was going to fall asleep. Chris came back to us with only an apple and orange. I slowly continued, “Well, I don’t see why I couldn’t…”

Jimmy nodded, replying, “Alright. It starts at 8!”

Soon after, a giddy Nick and Karl made their way to the lunch table. Chris, shocked, asked, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Yeah, what the heck!? You guys ALWAYS skip lunch together,” Dream laughed. 

“We um, we kind of got in trouble,” Karl explained, taking a seat directly across from me. 

Nick laughed, sliding into a seat next to Karl. I asked, “What did you do?” as I took a small bite of the unappealing school food. 

“Oh um,” he giggled, sharing an exchange of glances with Karl, “it’s not important, not important.”

I shook my head, returning my attention to Dream who was telling everyone a story about his Civics class earlier in the day. Oh boy, could I listen to him talk for hours. I liked to listen to the way his voice sped up and raised a few octaves when he was passionately talking about something, or the soft stutters in the middle of sentences when he is trying to collect his thoughts. There was something beautifully poetic about the way he ended his words with the smallest lisp, or how just in general the way he talked wasn’t perfect. 

I soon noticed the amount of glares and quick glances I was getting from other tables; people seemed to be confused as to why I was sitting with the elites. I could already feel the nerves all over my body start to tense. I could see some of them whispering and laughing, which only made me spiral inside of my head. I couldn't even try and pretend to enjoy my lunch anymore. I simply threw away the remnants and stayed quiet for the rest of lunch, hardly focusing on what the others were saying. 

\---

I stood at my locker, gathering my things in no hurry since my next class was a study hall and the teacher could care less if students were late. 

Bang!

I jumped back, noticing Technoblade who had just slammed my locker door in pure livid rage. He got close to my face, almost growling as he ordered, “You are going to be staying away from Jimmy’s party on Friday, you got that?”

I looked around; the hallways were eerily cleared of any students or teachers who would be in their classes at this moment- that would be my luck. 

“And… and what if I do go?” I asked with a sudden burst of confidence.

He grabbed the scruff of my shirt, pushing me against my own locker. I could hear the knuckles on his other hand crack; I immediately regretted my decision of talking back to him. He scoffed, grumbling, “You will get the shit kicked out of you if I see you there. Got it?”

I gulped, averting eye contact with him. He forced my head up to look at him, so I responded, “Yes! Yes Techno.”

He threw me back, letting go of his grip. He mumbled, “I can’t believe you ever thought you belonged here, especially with... that group.”

“Wha… what are you on about?” I asked aggressively. 

He laughed, crossing his arms. He explained, “I didn’t think you were this oblivious George, honestly… do you really think that someone so soft and shy, someone exactly like you could fit with a group like that? Now that I think about it, it’s kind of strange that Dream talks to you… oh wait, you’re his best friend’s cousin. Of course he is going to like you!”

“No, no he wouldn’t be friends with me just because of Nick,” I rationalized. 

“Sure. You just keep believing that; but hey, if it doesn’t turn out, you won’t be here for long, right?” he laughed, continuing, “Just… just stay away from the party George. Got it?”

I nod slowly, taking it all in. Techno turns, slowly walking down the hallway and to his next class. 

I rested my forehead against the chilling metal of my locker. It was dead silent in that hallway, almost deafeningly quiet. I thought about everything Techno had said; he did have a point. What are the chances that the popular kid just started talking to me, other than because of my connection to Nick?

I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm myself down. I turned around and slid down my locker, landing against the cold tile floor of the hall. I had no will to go to my study hall; if I skipped, then I skipped. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep myself together. I was way too on edge, and if I saw people glaring at me or talking about me, I think I would lose it. 

I had to tell Dream about this, just not yet. I had to make sure he would mentally be alright before his big game on Thursday since it could determine if he gets a scholarship into college. I couldn’t just jeopardize his chances of having a bright future. 

There was nothing that Techno actually had on me, so I would be fine… right?


	7. 6|Oh, How The Turns Have Tabled|

**Tommy’s Point of View**

I didn’t often hang around after my practices. Usually, Wilbur is always on time to get me and walk me home. However, this particular day, Wilbur was oddly late (he’s never late, I couldn’t help but think to myself. Strangely odd for Wilbur to be late). So, I was stuck waiting in the locker room alone.

“Hey, Gremlin.”

Okay, well, maybe not alone. Upon hearing the low grumbly voice of Dave (Technoblade, as everyone has decided to call him), I stood up and looked towards the doors exiting the locker room. One last thing I noticed was how timid; how miserable he sounded.

“Hey, Techie!” I responded with a smile, trying my damndest to lighten my pseudo-brother’s mood. I hated seeing my friends and family upset, even if said friend is an off-and-on friendship.

“Why are you still here?” Dave asked me, sitting on one of the benches in between walls of lockers. “Isn’t Wilbur always on time? What’s his deal today?”

“I… Don’t actually know where Wilbur is, if I’m honest,” I answered with a small shrug. “He usually isn’t late, but he hasn’t texted me to let me know he was here. I don’t know what he’s doing.”

A silence rang between Dave and I; a comfortable, yet tense silence only part-time friends could handle. As the silent company dragged out, I took notice of how Dave’s usually confident posture was timid and closed off. Something was wrong, and I was determined to fix it.

“What’s up with you, Blade? You’re never this down. You’re like Clay, but better. Confident, not cocky. Sure of yourself, not egotistical. Why do you look like someone just killed Phil?”

“Wow, low blow with the whole ‘killing Phil’ thing, Toms,” Dave shot back with a chuckle, making me light up significantly. Making people laugh was always my thing. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right. That was pretty dark. Seriously though, what’s wrong? You’re usually one to tease constantly, not sit in silence. What finally shut you up?”

“It’s this new British exchange kid.. George. He’s just so… Ugh. He’s annoying as hell, and is so attached to Clay, it’s disgusting. He’s just gets to stroll in, beat me at Chess twice, and take my position as Vice President-”

“Shut. Up. You don’t like him, either?” I asked with a growing smirk. “I hate George! He and WIlbur were best friends when we lived in London, and when we moved, George didn’t even acknowledge Wilbur’s existence. Wilbur keeps telling me to move on and forget about it, but that doesn’t roll with me. Nobody gets to hurt my big brother and get away with it.”

“So… What I’m hearing is, you want to destroy his reputation before it even gets built up?” 

“Exactly, and if anyone can help me with it, it’s you, Dave. He needs to pay for hurting WIlbur the way he did. He needs to pay for taking your position in Chess. George needs to pay.”

“Well, Tommy, we can’t exactly do much about it. I mean, there’s nothing to hold over his head; nothing to threaten him with-”

“Oh, trust me, Techie,” I cooed. “Let me tell you a story about a man whose family was torn apart from the inside out.”

“Um.. Okay. I’m listening. Give it your best shot, Theseus.”

I rolled his eyes at the mythological nickname, but took a deep breath. No turning back, after I tell this one. 

“Once upon a time, there was a little eight year old British boy. His life was pretty normal. Loving parents, good friends, an overall happy life. He had anything an eight year old boy could ask for. Until one day, a coin was flipped, and his family gambled on the wrong side of the coin.”

“It was all over the news. July 15, 2011. ‘Brixton man found dead by wife and eight year old son.’ The aforementioned man was the husband of the family; the father of this boy. He couldn’t handle being in the family anymore. He couldn’t handle the stress and pressure, so he killed himself. Overdosed on medication.”

“The little boy was crushed. Who wouldn’t be? He had to bury his own father. But the worst damage left behind? The financial struggle. He made a decent living when he was alive, enough to support the family while the mother was a stay at home mom with the boy. Once he killed himself, the mother had to struggle to find a job. The money drained faster than they could handle.”

“So, in a last minute struggle before her fifth job interview in that week, the mother went to the mother and father of her son’s best friend. She begged and pleaded for help, promising to pay the money back eventually. Now, the lovely couple she went running to turned her down. They had a proud reputation to uphold; they couldn’t be seen helping beggars.”

“The struggling mother returned home to her son, prepared for her interview, and broke the news to her son that his friendship with the couple’s boy was over. He was no longer allowed to speak to the boy whose parents refused to help them. She hated them now.”

“Months roll by, the family and their two boys move away, leaving the sad, fatherless eight year old boy and his depressed, struggling mom in Brixton. Brighton didn’t have what that family needed anymore; America had their names written all over it. They got their Visas, moved to Florida, and conquered the Realtor competition.” 

“They left the boy and his mother in Brixton for ten years, until somehow, she gathered the money to send him to America. Probably to abandon him. His father didn’t want to be around him anymore, it was only a matter of time until his mother didn’t want him anymore. Ten years, and not a single letter to his best friend. Ten years, and not a single acknowledgement to him. Bottom line is, he’s nothing. Both of his parents abandoned him because they didn’t want him. One got out the easy way, and the other is still struggling in Brixton.”

Dave was left in absolute silence for the entirety of the story. As more information was given to him, and based on what he already knew, he pieced the puzzle together. That child was George.

Frankly, the information was laughable.

“Tommy, you blond genius! This is exactly what I need! This is how I ruin him!”

“Thank you, thank you. I knew I was a smart person. Took you long enough to notice,” I smugly responded. “That’s all I have on him, feel free to use it as you see fit.”

“Sometimes I question how we’re friends, and then things like this happen, and I remember why. You’re a damn genius. Thank you!” Dave stood up quickly from the bench. “I have some planning to do. Need a ride home?”

“Nah, Wilbur just texted me.” I held up my phone, showing the lit up screen with a notification from my messages. “He’s waiting outside for me. See you later, Techno. Keep me updated!”

“Will do, bye Tommy.”

Both Dave and I left with smirks on our faces. Dave’s because he finally had the information he needed to take George down. Mine, because I was finally going to teach George what happens when you mess with my brother.


	8. 7|Who Doesn't Love Soccer?|

**George’s POV**

It was a beautiful evening; almost too perfect. Nick and Dream begged me to go to the game, since it was important to both of them. For Dream, it was a possibility to get noticed by college recruiters. For Nick, he had to go or he would get kicked from the varsity team. 

I sat in the stands of the small-medium sized stadium next to some of the chess club members, such as Bad, Zak, and Fundy. A boy wearing a navy blue beanie with dark brown hair sat in front of us, turning around to talk to Bad. His name was Alex.

“Bad!” he greeted, laughing. 

“Yes, Alex?” Bad replied, his tone slightly annoyed. 

“What am I not allowed to say ‘hi’ to my bestest friend in the whole world!?” He questioned.

Zak gasped, asking, “Bad… is this true? Alex is your new best friend? Baddd...”

Zak crossed his arms, acting fake hurt. Bad looked genuinely sorry and worried as he exclaimed, “What!? No! You muffins, stop!”

Zak and Alex laughed, Alex yelling, “We’re poppin off, we’re poppin off!”

I chuckled, shaking my head and redirecting my attention to the game that had just started. 

Dream took off towards the ball, successfully kicking it to Techno. From opposite sides of the field they swiftly dodged the other team and scored a goal for their team. Everyone in the stands cheered; myself included. 

The way that Dream’s face lit up with happiness and adoration for his teammates was one of the most pure things I could have witnessed. He high-fived Nick and some other teammates before returning to his position. Techno and a British kid named Tommy were left out of the high fives as they returned to their own positions with a look of determination adorning each of their respective faces. 

I watched as Dream threaded through more players, successfully taking the ball from the opposing side and kicking it to Nick, who fumbled for a second too long as a player from the other team had already taken it. I let out a soft chuckle, watching Nick as he cursed himself under his breath. Techno gave him a vicious glare from across the field, Nick returning it and sticking his tongue out. 

I slowly drifted off from the game, as I wasn’t really a sports person to begin with. I was only there to support Nick and Dream. I propped my feet up on the bleachers in front of me, resting my elbows on my knees. 

Bad poked me in the shoulder, asking, “Did you want anything from the concessions? Alex and Zak were going to go.”

I shrugged, looking to Alex and mumbling, “Could you just get me a water?”

He nodded, tapping Zak on the shoulder to follow him. Zak fumbled as he stood up, tripping past the stands. 

Bad asked, “How do you feel about Dream?”

I squinted, confused by his question. 

“What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes, explaining, “Anyone with two eyes can see the way you look at him. Like a little puppy, it’s so cute!”

I simply laughed, replying, “And?”

“Do you like him?” He wondered. 

I sighed, looking down to the floor of the stands. In one way, telling Bad might be a bad thing since he was very close with Dream. On the other hand, Bad was a nice guy; he wouldn’t just spill people’s secrets to someone else. I wasn’t usually one to spill my secrets to someone I barely knew; most would argue that I don’t even spill my secrets to people I’m close to. With Bad, it was different since he was so sweet and wholesome, he just radiated this positive energy that made me feel safe and welcome. 

“Uh… yeah,” I mumble, turning my head to the game to pretend to watch it. 

“Awww that’s adorable!” He gushed. 

“Shut up!” I lightheartedly laughed. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he smiled, continuing, “but I think you should tell Dream.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Well… it’s always good to share your feelings! Dream isn’t a bad guy,” he advised cryptically. 

It was odd, since his tone of voice suggested he was hiding something; I shrugged off the conversation when Alex and Zak came back with some snacks from the concession stand and my bottle of water. Alex handed it over to me with a smile, which I thanked him for. I returned to staring at Dream on the field, admiring his every move and even the way the sweat glistened on his tanned skin. The muscles on his calves flexed as he bounded past another player, focusing himself on the black and white soccer ball that rolled at a fast pace. He slowed down when he realized that Tommy had managed to score a goal for the team. Dream looked up towards the stands, his eyes catching with mine. All he did was smile and wave with a small wink before returning to the game. With no hesitation, I returned the wave, mouthing “good luck”. 

_ Oh, did this boy drive me crazy.  _

\---

I marched down the stands on a mission. Once the game ended, most people left to their cars, but I was determined to tell Dream about the Techno situation. I pondered about the consequences; Techno had nothing on me, except that he could beat me up. I ruled out the beating me up thing since I was always with Nick or one of the chess club members. Plus, Dream told me to tell him whenever Techno said anything alarming to me, so I felt entitled to hold up that promise. Sure, some could say that I was being too reckless by telling Dream this information, but in this circumstance, it felt like the best choice for me. 

I stood outside of the locker room’s door, waiting for Dream. A growing pit of anxious tension grew in my gut the longer I waited for the tall blond to exit. Soon enough someone did exit; someone with a frown that juxtaposed the brightness of their pink hair that stuck out prominently. 

Techno caught sight of me, his frown somehow darkening. He pushed me back, growling, “Get moving.”

I hesitantly allowed him to push me to a nearby hallway where we wouldn’t be seen by the other soccer players; not even Dream. 

He then spat out, “What do you think you’re doing here?”

I stumbled over my words as I tried to explain, “Well… I was… I am going to… Nick is-”

“You know what, I don’t care; I just wanted to tell you that if I see you hanging out with Dream or any of his friends, I will not hesitate to put you in a hospital. You better not tell Dream I told you to stay away, got it?” 

I grimaced under the aggressive nuance of his words. He inched closer but I stepped back in response, trying to get some air between Techno and I. He pushed me back, asking once again, “You got it?”

“And what will you do if I do tell Dream?” I wondered softly. 

He frowned turned into a devilish smirk, but it definitely wasn’t charming; in fact it disgusted me to see how happy he was with himself that he was in complete control over me. I felt frustrated that I had no power over him, and that he scared me so easily. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he laughed, “if you do tell Dream; just remember who has a dad and who doesn’t, George. It would be kind of weird if people knew that- the fact that you were poor and without a dad. Now, you’re seen with the rich kids who are oh-so-popular and perfect.”

I gasped, shocked that he knew about my father, or anything about my past in the Brixton district of London. I didn’t tell anyone, and the only person who would possibly know was Nick, which I highly doubted he told anyone. He wasn’t the type of guy to do that and I trusted him. 

I stood staring at Techno, my mouth hanging open slightly. He chuckled, patting my shoulder and mumbling, “See you at chess club tomorrow, Vice President.”

I huffed, leaning back against a random locker. I could hear Techno’s shoes squeak against the floor as he turned and walked to the glass doors. I rubbed my face with my hands, contemplating my next course of action. The pit I mentioned earlier was still growing; I was worried it was going to turn into a black hole as it ravaged my insides with nothing but nerves. There was nothing I could do; the last thing I would want for people to know at school is about my past. I would never hear the end of it, and I’m sure I would get bullied for it. Techno was bad enough, I didn’t need anyone else making my life a living hell. 

Slowly, I walked out of the building and by myself on the way home. I felt my phone buzz, but I didn’t bother to check it. I simply left it in my pocket, deciding to not respond to anyone until I got to Nick’s house. 

As I took a stroll down the sidewalk and to the fancy neighborhood that Nick lived in, I took in the scenery and the overall vibe of the suburban town.

The scenery of the large town was absolutely gorgeous: towering palm trees, flowering hibiscus shrubs and cookie-cutter homes perfectly described the area.

The scenery of home was a different story: homeless people on every corner, gray skies, little shrubbery, and sad brick buildings. 

If anything, that’s where I belonged; not in Florida’s ideal suburbia with middle class families who didn’t even know the feeling of being hungry with nothing to do about it because you are so poor. Or perhaps the feeling of not being able to take friends to your house because you were scared that they would judge you for your surroundings that you had no control over. It was a feeling of being completely powerless and weak due to the unfairness of society; all of these people have power. 

I smiled sadly to myself, kicking a chunk of broken concrete across the sidewalk. I looked up as a woman and a man jogged past me, giving me a smile and a simple hello as they passed by. 

Yep, I definitely didn’t belong. 

\---

**Nick’s POV**

“That was awesome dude! I can’t believe you made that final shot!” I exclaimed towards my teammate and best friend, Dream. 

He simply laughed, replying, “Oh come on now, you did pretty good yourself.”

“Sure,” I giggled, picking up my phone and texting George. 

**You**

_ hey, did u want to go out with me and dream to get pizza? _

_ its on me _

I waited patiently for a text from my cousin, with no response. Dream asked softly, “Is George not answering?”

I checked my phone, shaking my head. I hit the call button next to his name, hearing the phone ring once before a robotic lady’s voice replied, “The number you have tried to reach is unav-”

I hung up, sighing. 

This was highly uncharacteristic for George; usually he would get back to me almost right away, or he would at the very least text me when he was going to turn off his phone. The last thing I would want is for George to get lost. I made a promise to myself that I was going to protect that British boy, even if it would be the last thing I would do. 

“He… he’s not picking up Dream!” I worried, texting him once again. 

**You**

_ george pick upp _

The messages didn’t even say that he read them; instead they just sat lonely against the dark background of my text messages app. Dream optimistically suggested, “Maybe he’s just waiting outside and his phone died.”

I sighed, slinging my bag over my shoulder. 

Dream and I both walked out of the locker room and saw George nowhere. 

  
“Huh?” I muttered, looking around.    
  
“Well… maybe… maybe he’s at your car!” Dream thought out loud. 

I shrugged, deciding there was no harm in checking. 

Once we did make it to the car, we noticed there was no George in sight. Dream and I looked to each other, confused as to where George was. I got a text, noticing it was from George. 

**George**

_ calm down. i walked home.  _

**You**

_ did u wanna go? we can still pick u up _

Seen.

I scoffed at the fact he left me on read; something was going on with him. I decided that I would confront him about it later. I was just happy that he made it back home. 

“So, did he text back?” Dream asked.

“Um, yeah. He walked home. I asked if he still wanted to go, but he left me on read.”

I showed him my phone screen, his face contorting into a sad frown. 

“Oh. I was really hoping he would come along,” Dream mumbled, obviously upset that George would brush us off like that. 

I sighed, unlocking my car with the key fob on my key ring. 

_ What the hell happened tonight? _


	9. 8|You Alright?|

**George’s POV**

I played with my fingers in silence as Nick drove us to school, his hands gliding smoothly over the steering wheel as he straightened the car after a turn. We hadn’t talked all day, and I preferred to keep it that way. The more that I could keep distancing myself, the less Techno would bother me. 

Nick glanced over to me, asking, “You alright? You kind of just left yesterday after the game, and you didn’t really wanna talk yesterday.”

I fiddled with the air conditioning controls, replying, “I’m good.”

“Oh,” He simply stated as he pulled into the parking lot of the high school. 

“What were you doing awake all last night?” he wondered. 

“Uhm, just getting ahead on my schoolwork,” I yawned, taking my bag from the backseat. 

Nick slammed the car door, locking the doors with his key fob. A red pick-up truck parked to the left of us; it was none other than Dream. 

He hopped out of the cabin of the truck, rushing over to us. He asked loudly, “are you still going to the party tonight, George?”

I shrugged, replying, “No.”

He slumped forward a bit, his smile dropping. He asked, “why not?”

“Yeah, why not?” Nick reiterated, confused. 

“I’ve got a lot of work to do, for uhm… school,” I quickly replied, ending with a sad smile. 

Nick furrowed his brows, walking alongside Dream as we entered the school building. He wondered softly, “I thought you said that you stayed up all last night to get ahead in school…?”

Dream looked from Nick to me, his frown deepening. 

The bell chimed, signaling it was the start of the first period. I was, literally, saved by the bell. 

I quickly exclaimed, “See you guys later! I have to go to AP Physics!” with a small smile and a wave.

I started sweating, overwhelmed by the fact that I was caught lying. Another thing I was stressing about was the fact that I was late for AP Physics; my day was going  _ splendid _ so far. 

\---

**Nick’s POV**

George ran down the hallway to our left, avoiding any further talk about his obvious lie. I turned to Dream, who just looked at me with a simple shrug. I then said, “I’ll get to my first class now… yeah.”

He only nodded, veering off in a different direction from myself. 

_ There is something seriously wrong with George, I just have to know what.  _

\---

**George’s POV**

I took my lunch tray, finding a table which sat lonely and by itself. Techno warned me to stay away from Dream and his friends, so I didn’t think it would be a good idea to sit with them. 

I carelessly dropped my tray onto the table, pushing it forward so I could just rest my head on the cold, synthetic wood. I had no will to eat as I was somnolent and lethargic; not to mention that the food was highly questionable. 

I heard the sliding of a chair and the sound of a tray on the table next to me, which I jumped up at. Dream had just sat down, concern resting on the features of his face. I asked, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jimmy?”

“Well yes, but you’re my friend too George… I’m worried about you,” he voiced his concern, reaching forward to take a sip of his milk. 

I huffed, sitting straight in my seat. I couldn’t be seen talking to him like this; I replied bluntly, “I think you should go back to your table,  _ Clay.  _ You don’t belong here; you belong with the rest of the popular kids.”

“Well you don’t belong here either!” He tried to argue. 

Exasperated, I replied, “Dream, just go. Leave me alone… I just want to be alone.”

“I see...”

He reverted his attention, focusing back on his old table. With slight hesitation, he looked from me to them and then left. My emotions were conflicting and creating a war with each other in my head; I didn’t want him to leave but yet I did. 

Soon enough, some more visitors came to my table, consisting of Bad, Zak, and Wilbur. I asked, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We couldn’t let you sit by yourself! That would be so mean,” Bad replied, seating himself next from me.

  
“Bad made me come here, but I guess you shouldn’t sit by yourself,” Zak joked, rewarding himself a small punch in the arm by Bad after sitting across from him.

I laughed at their small banter, noticing the tall brunette named Wilbur who sat directly across from me. 

“I know how it feels to be left alone,” Wilbur commented, in response to the question. “I don’t like seeing people be left alone. So, I figured I’d join you, too.”

I nodded, wondering, “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You just seem really familiar.”

It was true; even from the first time I saw him, he just seemed eerily familiar, like I saw him somewhere. I brushed it off as he just looked like someone else. 

“I think we were friends when you lived in Brixton. My brother seems to think you’re the same George that quit talking to me right before we moved to America. I think he might be right, if I’m completely honest.”

Everything seemed to click into place; Wilbur Soot. His name was Wilbur Soot. 

“Wait, your name… is… is it… Wilbur Soot?” I asked, completely bewildered. 

“Yes, sir,” Wilbur said with a nod. “And you must be the illusive George Davidson. It’s been a while, Mate. How have you been?” 

I sat back in my chair; shocked would be an understatement. 

Wilbur was a large part of my young life; every time his parents would come from Brighton to Brixton, they would bring Wilbur and we would play together (with the addition of his younger brother, Tommy, but since he was younger we didn’t really talk). All of a sudden without any warning, Wilbur and Tommy moved, and I never really got to talk to him again. Right before they left, Wilbur gave me his new address, which I sent countless letters to; letters that explained my boring school days, or my letters telling him about my pets. Anything that came to mind, really. It was a form of therapy, even though I knew after a certain point there was no one on the other end. 

“I sent so many letters to you, what… why… why didn’t you reply?” I asked in a slightly hurt tone. 

“George... You never sent me anything. I never got a single letter from you. I sent letters to you twice, before accepting the fact that we were no longer friends, and moved on. What do you mean, ‘why didn’t you reply’? How can I reply to a letter I never received?” He argued, crossing his arms. 

Confused, I explained, “What do you mean? Your address, isn’t it 2245 Cooper Field Lane? In this town? I sent like… I don’t even know. Probably hundreds of letters.”

“Yes, that is my address. I can assure you, George, if you had sent letters to me, I would have opened each and every one of them. I would have answered each and every one of them, because I valued our friendship. I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t bother getting in contact with me... After a while, I just decided you didn’t ever actually like me, and moved on after we left.” 

Bad and Zak next to us became silent as they watched us talk back and forth. Every so often, they would glance at each other and return to their food, allowing us to talk with no interruptions. 

“Wilbur, you were my best friend… and… and I’m sorry that you never got those letters. Actually…” 

There was a certain point when I stopped writing letters, and it was only a year or so ago. I decided that mailing these letters was a waste of time, and a waste of postage stamps which were starting to add up in cost. This letter was the last thing I ever wrote to Wilbur, and I kept it because it meant so much to me. 

I pulled out my worn wallet, flipping through the flaps to pull out a slightly yellowed piece of lined paper. I frantically smoothed it out on the table, clearing my voice as I read it out to him.

“ _ Dear Wilbur: _

_ Hello, it’s George again. Sometimes I wonder if you ever get these, but the fact that I’ve been sending them for so long might suggest that you never got them. This is the last letter, I think.  _

_ I miss the days where we would go to the local park in Brixton and play on the swings. Remember that one time where I pulled you so far back that you flew forward and fell off? Then you had to explain to your mom why you had so much wood chips in your clothes? I remember laughing so hard, and of course you did too.  _

_ I even miss the days we would spend inside when it was raining (which is often, because you remember Britain weather: always rainy) and we would make our own little forts and have wars. You named yours L’manberg, I remember. You never told me what that meant, but I know it probably meant something. I even remember when Tommy tried to get involved and he would try to take over your position. It was fun, those days. Well, before we stopped talking so much and your parents started to distance us. After my dad died.  _

_ After you left, I never really found friends. Hell, I still don’t have any friends. I missed having someone like you. I remember everyday that maybe we will get to meet again! My mum tells me that’s just wishful thinking, which she's probably right about. Everyday is a constant struggle, but I just remember those days where we would push each other on the swings. A placid, candid time with no worries in the world. If I ever got the chance to go back in time, I would go back to those moments; the moments that really matter. _

_ I remember one of the last things you said to me before you left. You said, ‘Someday, I want to make music. If for some reason that music becomes popular, I want you to come with me on tour. We will go everywhere, and we will never separate again. Just you, me, a tour bus, and the road.’ _

_ I hope you're still willing to make that happen, because I wish I could be anywhere but here right now. I hope every time you make music or hear music, you think of me. I will always be there Wilbur, even if you can’t see me.  _

_ Your best friend for life, _

_ George Davidson” _

I felt tears start to prick at the back of my eyes as I set down the letter, looking up in the red eyes of Wilbur. 

He was a lot more subtle about his emotions, emotions that changed throughout the letter. The beginning had him quietly chuckling, the mention of L’Manberg had him humming the anthem he wrote to the tune of ‘Hallelujah,’ and as the end of the letter neared, emotion started to break the barriers down. 

“George.. I- Wow… I can’t believe you had so much on your mind. You never seemed to let yourself think too quickly,” Wilbur teased, wiping his own eyes to subside the unshed tears. “That was absolutely amazing… Thank you.”

I sniffled, wiping my own eyes on the sleeve of my hoodie. Bad smiled at both of us, almost crying himself. Zak simply grinned, eating his sandwich. 

I let out a soft chuckle, replying, “Y… y… you’re welcome… Wilbur.”

“I actually wrote my own. It’s a lot shorter than yours, but I never got the courage to send it to you. After radio silence, I assumed you hated me. It scared me into thinking that if I sent it, you’d never respond.”

Wilbur pulled the chair holding his backpack to his side, reaching into the smallest pocket in the front and pulling out his own sheet of paper, half full of words. After a deep breath, he began reading the words on his page.

_ “Dear George Davidson, _

_ Uh... Hey. It’s your old friend, Wilbur Soot. I know it’s been quite some time (six years, actually. wow...) since we moved away, but I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing. _

_ Things are... Okay here, I guess. It isn’t easy, but Middle School isn’t the worst, either. We get lockers now, which is a godsend. Honestly, I have to carry so much shit with me, I thought my back was going to snap into two pieces. _

_ Tommy and I are much closer now. He used to be so goddamn annoying, but... After he hit Middle School, and people started to abandon their Elementary School friendships with him, he and I hung out a lot more. We’re closer than we ever were in Brighton, and I think most of his class is afraid to speak to him, out of fear that I’ll flip the hell out. _

_ Good. I hope they’re afraid. He doesn’t deserve people like that pretending to be friends with him. _

_ I think about you every once in a while. There’s a kid in my Algebra class who claims you’re his cousin, but has absolutely no proof that he's telling the truth. Oh well, I guess. Kids will be kids right? _

_ Well... I don’t want to waste any more of your time. You were always one to be conscious of time management. If this letter took up too much time, feel free to ignore it. I’d understand. _

_ Sincerely, your (ex?) best friend, _

_ Wilbur Soot _

_ P.S.: Tommy wanted me to tell you, he said hello. He also misses you. _ ”

“Of course Nick would claim to be my cousin,” I joked, “I am oh-so famous and cool.”

Wilbur chuckled lightly, folding the letter back up into a nice square. 

“Here, I want you to have this,” I said, handing him my letter.

Wilbur took the letter, sliding his own across the table. “Well, then I want you to have mine. If we ever split up again, we’ll always have a piece of each other.” 

“Thank you… best friend.”

I took the letter, admiring his decent handwriting. 

“Of course, best friend,” Wilbur responded with a smile. His signature smile. “Welcome home, George. Glad to finally have you back. No hard feelings about the unanswered letters?”

I smiled, replying, “Of course not.”

\---

**Tommy’s POV**

Wilbur and I always ate lunch together. We have since I was in fifth grade; fresh into Middle School, fresh out of friends. The only years we missed (two of the lonliest years of my life), were seventh and eighth grade, when Wilbur got moved up to High School. Worst two years of my life.

Nevertheless, we made it a yearly tradition to make sure our lunch schedules matched up, so I would never be alone.

This particular lunch, however, it seemed like Wilbur had other plans for that.

It started out normally. The two of us sat side by side at our table, like we did every single day, and put on a movie using my phone. We switched between actually watching the movie, and talking to each other, while simultaneously eating the lunch our mother made us that morning. Between laughing at stupid jokes the other made, or laughing at how ridiculously bad the movie of choice was, we were having fun, as we did every day. Everything was great. Everything was normal.

Until I watched Wilbur’s gaze follow Clay back to his table of rich kids.

Something told me, in that moment, that things were about to change. I didn’t know what was changing, or how it was changing, but something was changing, and frankly, I hated it.

I hated change. Change always brought me discomfort. It brought me anxiety. Change made things in my life worse.

I tried to settle the boiling anxiety that rose in my chest as Wilbur’s eyes shot over to a table housing one student; the table Clay came from. You would have to be blind, to miss the disappointment in Clay’s eyes. As rewarding and soothing as that felt to me, things just got worse. Settling that anxiety became impossible when my brother stood up, and with his lunch, just left.

“Where are you..” I started, unable to finish my sentence. As my gaze followed Wilbur to the table, which now held him, Zak, Darryl, and George, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. As Wilbur sat across from George, and the four of them began talking, a realization hit me, and boy, did it hit hard. 

Wilbur just… Left me. Wilbur chose George, the friend who abandoned him, over his own brother.

What a way to feel my first punch to the gut, right?

My gaze glanced all around the cafeteria, the sudden feeling of eyes on me every second becoming too unbelievably overbearing, to a point where it made me sick. Without Wilbur there to watch over me and protect me, I was subjected to the judgmental outside world, where people found pleasure in ridicule and torment. Wilbur broke the serenity of our little bubble, when he decided to branch off and go his own way.

Every now and then, I’d glance Wilbur’s way, praying he’d make eye contact. Praying I’d see some ounce of anger on Wilbur's face, anger that comes from the years George pretended that Wilbur never existed. Anger George deserved to be subjected to.

Seeing the smile instead of the anger sparked my worst fears to life. 

I knew that smile. I knew it better than anyone else in the school. That smile was forgiving. It was warm. It was welcoming. Wilbur and George are on speaking terms. Wilbur’s best friend was back.

I wasn’t even good enough for my own brother anymore.

I gathered the remnants of my lunch, picked up my phone and my backpack, then left the cafeteria. I couldn’t handle the pressure of hundreds of eyes I thought were on me, as they watched the inseparable pair of brothers no longer sit together, instead involuntarily opting to split into two separate groups, with one of them being left alone. Watching a promise being broken.

I couldn’t handle being alone.

George was going to pay for ruining the last good thing I had left in High School. He was going to pay. Big time.

\---

**George’s POV**

At the end of the school day, I stood at my locker, admiring Wilbur’s note. My eyes seemed to run over each line and memorize it; I even memorized the way he crossed his t’s and the way he swooped the end of his y’s. I was glad to have my friend back, even if there was the possibility that we would never be on the same level of friendship as we once were. The reconciliation between us was enough to make me smile. 

Unfortunately, the bubbles of happy thoughts that were floating around in the proverbial sky in my head were shot down when I got a text message. 

**+1 (xxx) xxx-xxxx**

_ when you come to chess club, let me win  _

_ It’ll give them a reason to get rid of your vice presidency _

_ unless you want me to spill info about your dad _

I rolled my eyes, shoving my phone into my pocket. At this point, I didn’t really care about the Vice Presidency; the only thing I truly wanted was to be able to stay friends with Dream and hang out with his friends without fear that my past would be brought to light for the world to see. 

When I entered the library, the usual crowd was there. Most of the attendees were on their phones, waiting for me. Dream asked frantically, “Where have you been!? Club started like ten minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry, I just… lost track of time,” I innocently answered. 

He sighed, replying, “Just… just don’t do it again. Techno said he wanted to challenge you to another game of chess.”

I slowly nod, taking in the hurt and distant expression in his eyes; was he really upset because of me? It pained me to see him so down, as usually he was smiling that signature shit-eating smile. 

Techno motioned to the seat in front of him. People filled in around us to watch this chess match. Little did they know, it was going to be very disappointing. 

Techno allowed me to take the first move, which I did with extreme hesitation. A part of me didn’t want to give Techno what he wanted; part of me wanted to rebel and say “fuck it”. Most of me said otherwise- that risking the information about my father being leaked would be too much for me to handle. I mentally had to agree, because it was hard to see people talking about me. 

Soon enough, we were nearing the end of the chess match. Techno took one last move, the word “checkmate” leaving his lips in a monotone voice. 

The people around us were shocked; Dream included. Fundy asked me, “Why did you move your queen there? That was such a simple mistake.”

I shrugged, staring directly into Techno’s dead eyes. For once, they had a glint of happiness in them. He liked to feed off of my torment. He then asked, “What, did you learn those chess moves from your dad?”

_ My dad.  _

“My… what?” I asked, although I knew fully well what he said. 

“You heard me,” he leaned back, a smile ghosting his lips. 

I couldn’t stay there, not with people watching me. Everyone in the club was staring at us, flabbergasted. Their eyes darted from Techno to I as we exchanged words. Their judgy eyes. Everyone was judging me. 

“I have to… go…” My voice cracked as I took my things, darting out of the library faster than the speed of sound. 

My heart dropped into my stomach, finding its new home there. I didn’t stop, I just continued walking and walking, not turning back. Not even when Dream called after me as I pushed open the squeaky library doors; not when rain poured down on me, and not when I was greeted by Uncle Andy on my way through the front door to his house. My mind seemed to stay on one track as I continually thought about what Techno had said. 

I crashed into a ball on the floor, heaving out a shaky breath. My fingers gripped onto the knees of my damp jeans I was wearing. Rain pounded on the top of the roof, but I couldn’t hear it; all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the antagonistic voices that shouted inside my head. 

_ Oh God, how did it come to this? _

\---

**Clay’s POV**

George stood up, making eye contact with me momentarily. There was something broken behind the glass windows of his pupils; something of contrition and misery. I called after him, pleading, “George! Wait! George please!”

I turned back to Techno, yelling, “What was that about!?”

He laughed, standing up and gathering his stuff. Dream continued, “If you do that again, you’re getting kicked out. You don’t just say stuff like that.”

“Like what? I didn’t say anything,” he hummed, leaving the library with little remorse in his tone of voice. 

I stood, watching as he left the club. I mumbled, “Club is over early, today.”

Slowly, I started to wonder what was going on with George. I couldn’t bear to see him upset like that; it ripped my heart into a million pieces to see the glassy look in his eyes or the unwritten words of dejection sprawled across the features of his face. 

I had to find out what happened; but first, I had to call Nick. 


	10. 9|You Have My Word|

**Nick’s POV**

I sat against the headboard of Karl’s bed, the brunette sat in between my legs, leaning back onto me. He was sound asleep; the only noises you could hear was the loud wind from outside and his soft snores. I smiled, admiring each one as I stared at his posters that sat in frames amongst the farthest wall. 

_ Bzzt... bzzt... bzzt... _

I groaned, shifting under the weight of the boy on top of me to find my phone in my pocket. Karl’s soft snoring halted under the frantic movements I was making. 

“Hello?” 

“Nick! Where are you!?” Dream screeched. 

“Ow my ear!” I cried, “I’m with Karl, what’s up?”

“George… we need to confront him. He’s been acting strangely ever since the soccer game… and he just left club.”

I sat up fully now, pushing the smaller boy off of me softly. I quickly put on my shoes. Karl looked to me, a worried expression replacing the sleepy one on his face. 

“Yeah, yeah you’re right… meet me at my house.”

“Yep.” 

He hung up with no hesitation. Karl asked, “Wait where are you going? I thought we were going to the party together.”

He fiddled with the end of my hoodies sleeve that he was wearing. His soft and kind eyes looked up to me with slight dismay. 

“I’ll be at the party, I promise. I just have some... family issues,” I purred, giving him a hug before I dashed out of his bedroom and to my car in the driveway. 

\---

**George’s POV**

I silently sat in Nick’s swivel chair, staring into his mesmerizing screensaver on his computer. My hands rested in the pocket of my hoodie, clasped together. I eventually pieced it together that I probably would have to spend the rest of my High School career lonely, just like I was in London. I laughed silently, finding it hilarious I thought I could have otherwise. 

I cried for a long time, drowning in my tears and gut-wrenching anxiety; I couldn’t cry anymore, I couldn’t be upset anymore. A numbness eventually replaced all of the hate and aggression. It was like the universe was out to get me, and I spent too much time trying to fight it. My sad future seemed unavoidable, inevitable; I was destined to be lonely, and all I could do was accept it. 

_ Bang! _

Nick bust through the door to his bedroom, Dream standing behind him. I wiped away the tears that laid still on my cheeks, clearing my throat as I asked, “Isn’t the party starting soon?”

Dream crouched down next to me in the chair, answering, “Well yes, but we can’t go without you, Georgie.”

“I can’t… I can’t go,” I stuttered out, returning my attention to the screen of Nick’s computer. 

“And why not!?” Nick yelled. 

“I... can’t… tell you,” my voice cracked. 

“George, you can tell us. We’re your friends George,” Dream reassured, delicately placing one of his hands on my knee. 

All of my frustration and anxiety bubbled up in my throat, so when I went to speak, nothing came out, except for a small squeak. 

Many conflicting thoughts seemed to battle in the cavities of my brain, making it near impossible to make a decision on what I wanted to do. On one hand, if I told them, they wouldn’t hate me for my odd behavior and they would understand what kind of position I was in. On the other, Techno would eventually find out that I told them and he would enact his revenge by putting my safety in jeopardy and revealing my past. It was all too much to handle at once, but I tried my best not to break down in front of them. The last thing I would want to do is embarrass myself by making the atmosphere awkward. 

Nick impatiently stood with his arms crossed and his foot tapping lightly as he waited for me to spill what was going on with me. I looked down at my hands, playing with my fingers (which was a bad habit, but I found solitude in doing so), while I explained with extreme uncertainty, “I can’t go because of Techno. I… we… uhm,”my thoughts trailed off, which was highly frustrating. 

“It’s okay George, take your time,” Dream spoke, his voice in a half-whisper. 

“I… I can’t go because… Techno is going to be there and… and he told me that he would… he would basically beat me… up if I went,” I stated as clear as I could, the bubble in my throat never ceasing in size and difficulty to manage. 

Nick uncrossed his arms, sighing, “Well why didn’t you tell us sooner? I would’ve beat the shit out of him,” he casually said. 

I shook my head, continuing, “Don’t you see? That’s the problem. If… if…” I turned to Nick, calming down a bit before explaining, “if I went, or if I was seen with you guys… he would tell everyone about…”

“Your dad?” Dream asked.

I nodded, wondering, “How do you know about that?”

“Well, Techno said about your dad during the club meeting and… you got really upset.”

Nick then said, “You don’t… you don’t have to tell him George.”

“Tell me what?” Dream asked. 

“Nothing!” Nick yelled, changing the topic, “So are you going or not?”

“What!? No!” I yelled, “I know this friendship is important to me but I’m not about to risk broken limbs to hang out with you guys,” I continued, half joking. 

Dream stood up, pulling me up by my hands. He then said, “George, I will protect you, alright? The others aren’t bad. Techno is only one dude, and as long as you stick with me, you should be fine.”

I looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact with the blond. 

“Yeah! So are you going or not?” Nick inquired, his face lighting up. 

Dream made a compelling argument; as long as I didn’t stray away from Dream or Nick, I should be fine. Techno can’t beat up three people (well, I wouldn’t be much help, but I doubt he could take down Nick and Dream at the same time). 

“You’ll protect me, right?” 

I looked back up into his eyes; they glittered like the twinkling stars on a midsummers night. His tousled hair hung complacently on his forehead. The freckles he had were prominent in the lighting of Nick’s room. The sunlight coming in from the floor to ceiling window caught in the iris of his left eye, making them glow a bright, untroubled glow. A light smirk ghosted his pale rose lips, a small section of his teeth showing. 

“You have my word.”


	11. 10|Jimmy's Party|

**George’s POV**

The dull yellow rays of light coming from the streetlamps seemed exaggerated when it piled in through the windows. There was a silent atmosphere that lingered within the car as we neared Jimmy’s house. The drive wasn’t too far from Nick’s, as they lived in the same rich person neighborhood. 

Soon enough, we were stood in front of the large modern home with tons of cars lined up in the long driveway. People littered the yard, along with some random balloons and red solo cups. I started to play with the hem of my shirt, a strike of anxiety washing over me as I got closer to the door. Dream nudged me with his shoulder, saying, “Hey, it’ll be alright. You can’t just let Techno push you around. Have fun.”

“You’re right… I just can’t help but feel a little worried,” I explained, stepping through the already open door of the house. 

Jimmy, his arm around a blonde female, came up to us, exclaiming, “I’m glad you guys could make it! Especially you George, I thought you weren’t going to come.”

I lightly chuckled, scratching the back of my neck as I murmured, “Yeah, I didn’t think I was coming either…”

Jimmy continued, “Oh, and Techno is going to be late.”

Dream’s face scrunched as he asked, “Why?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Jimmy shrugged, “He is coming though. He promised.”

Nick pulled me from the conversation over to a bar that sat in the living room of this large mansion. The girl behind the bar, who was around our age, gave us a smile as she asked, “What did you guys want?”

I elbowed Nick in the side, asking, “Are you crazy? You’re going to drink!?”

“Relax dude, I’m just getting ONE beer,” he then continued to order from the lady. 

“Did you want anything, sweetie?” She offered. 

“Uhm… no I-”

Nick cut me off, yelling over the loud music, “He’ll have the same.”

She happily complied, setting down a green glass bottle, wet from the condensation.

“I uh… I didn’t want…” 

“Oh come on George,” Nick teased, “You’ll be fine. It’s only one.”

I rolled my eyes, taking the beer. Maybe it would get my mind off of the fact I might get pummeled to the ground later by a tall pink haired man. My better judgement was clouded by my other worries that seemed more prominent at the moment. 

He waited as I took a small sip, the liquid tasting offensive. I coughed, Nick laughing. He then said, “Oh, you’ll get used to it.”

“Sure.” 

Nick then said, “I’m going to go find Karl, see you!”

Before I could argue, I was left by myself. 

The music was blaring; people were dancing with no regrets as they piled on to the middle of the hardwood floor and messed around. Others were standing on the second floor and were throwing things off of the banister that overlooked the main room of the party. 

I had never been to a party before; it wasn’t like I just never showed up to them, it’s just that I was never invited. Perhaps the only party I was ever at was at one of Wilbur’s last birthday parties he had in the UK. Speaking of Wilbur, I noticed him talking with some other kids. They soon left, so I took that as my opportunity to speak to my old compatriot, seeing as I had no idea where Dream was or Nick. 

I tapped his shoulder and he turned around, smiling at me. 

“George! I didn’t know you were a party person, what’s up? Are you drinking? Since when?” He asked with a chuckle. “Being a bad boy tonight, I see!”

I laughed politely at his joke, taking another small sip from the bottle. 

“Well, I guess a lot has changed since we were, what? Eight?” I joked. “But no, this is the complete opposite of what I usually do. Nick got me this,” I motioned to the beer in my hand. 

Wilbur’s chuckle got gradually louder with the joke. “I guess that’s true. Well, glad to finally see you letting out the bad boy in you. It’s about time!”

I giggled, looking past him to see Tommy leaning against the wall with his phone in hand. It was perplexing, since every time I saw them, Tommy was attached to Wilbur at all times. I asked, “Why aren’t you with Tommy?”

Wilbur’s gaze flickered over to the corner of the rather large room, where a blond boy stood on his own, scrolling through his phone. “He’s been in a mood all day. I refuse to let him ruin tonight; we’re here to have fun! But by all means, if you’d like to try and brighten his day, be my guest.”

“Uh, well I don’t know,” I considered, “I guess I have nothing to lose. It would be nice to talk to him after… so long.”

**Tommy’s POV**

I was immersed in the phone screen in front of my face. First of all, parties were not my thing, contrary to popular belief. The room was full of too many people; full of people I didn't know (or particularly care about, honestly). But Wilbur wanted to be here, and our parents forced me to go.

Speaking of Wilbur, I was being approached by my brunette brother, who was walking side by side with George.

Fucking fantastic.

“What?” I grumbled quietly, pocketing my phone after hitting the power button. “You avoid me all night, until right now?”

“Um, hello Tommy. It’s been awhile,” George greeted, a small, awkward smile adorning his face. 

“...George,” I muttered awkwardly. My shoulders tensed a bit, feeling the awkward conversation drag along tension. I didn’t want to talk to him.

“Okay, you two talk,” Wilbur said quickly, taking a few steps away. “I’ll be with Zak and Bad if you need me, George.”

George held up his hand in protest and opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when he realized that Wilbur couldn’t hear him. He then turned his attention back to me and asked, “So… how are you?”

“Typical…” I mumbled, pulling my phone back out to fidget with his case. “Leave it to Wilbur to have better things to do, than actually be with his brother…”

Upon being addressed by George, my gaze hardened to contrast the sad mumbling, locked with the other boy. A forced docile look was what I gave George. “Fine. Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” George asked absentmindedly, looking away, his gaze resting on anything else but mine. 

I couldn’t suppress the sigh that left my mouth. God, this was annoying!

“Because we haven’t talked in like, years? Then all of a sudden you show up and expect us to be best friends, like when I was little?”

George quickly protested, “No… no I wasn’t expecting things to go back to the way they… used to be… but I… I want to restart, and forget everything. A new beginning.”

For what reason, I couldn’t help but think to myself. If Wilbur didn’t even want to be seen with me, why would anyone else? What was the point?

“No,” I responded, forcing as much confidence as I could. “I want nothing to do with you. The past is in the past, Davidson. Leave it go.”

George’s expression soured as he then said, “Fine, Tommy. If that’s what you want…”

He turned away; probably to go hang out with his rich kid friends. What did Wilbur even see in him? What was so special about a cocky know-it-all?

What did George have that I didn’t?

I watched just long enough to see Wilbur reapproach George, and watch the two of them talk. The last thing I saw before looking back at my phone screen was Wilbur’s glare, which bore directly into me. He was angry. Oh well, I guess. Nothing new at this point.

**Wilbur’s POV**

After walking away, and leaving George to talk to Tommy, I opted to hunt down Zak and Bad, and spend some time with them. Honestly, after that day at lunch with George, a newfound respect for the duo blossomed in my chest.

Our conversation didn’t last too long, though.

As I spoke with the two, my eyes were glancing in Tommy and George’s direction, praying to see the same kind of forgiveness George got from myself. My hopeful spirit faded when George walked away, and Tommy looked to be a mix of anxious and annoyed.

The first thing I did was break away from Zak and Bad, and I intercepted George as he walked away. “George, hey. How’d it go?” I asked with a hopeful tone, thinking it’d lighten the darkening mood I felt.

George simply shrugged, answering sarcastically, “Well, he just told me ‘I want nothing to do with you’, so a hopeful start for sure!”

I could feel the eyes of Tommy on me, and made neutral eye contact long enough to see a dull sadness in them. Despite that, and the heartache I felt when I saw it, I returned the look with a glare. Why wouldn’t he just… Try?

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with him right now. He’s been like this nearly all week.”

George laughed lightly, taking another drink out of the bottle in his hand. He looked off to the side, replying quietly, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing I’m not used to,” before walking off in the direction of the sliding glass doors. 

“George, wait-”

I stopped mid-sentence, accepting that George wasn’t interested in speaking about the topic anymore. A new, sudden wave of anger hit me like a strong gust of wind. So many burning questions were floating around in my head.

When did things change? Why don’t George and Tommy get along? Why is it so difficult to fix the problems left unsolved for ten years?

What is Tommy’s problem?

All questions I’d leave unanswered, I suppose.

**Karl’s POV**

Nick and I stood near a wall, talking to some of our soccer friends. I wasn’t as invested in soccer as the rest of the team was, but I stayed in varsity because our coach was my dad (a blessing some might say, a curse I would consider it). They were currently talking about some soccer players and a game that was on last night, so in response I zoned out. 

I looked past Dream who was standing with us, and I saw a broken George step out onto the back porch. I pulled on Nick’s sleeve, softly telling him that I was going outside before I left. He simply nodded, returning to his in-depth analysis of last night's game. 

I quietly opened the sliding glass door, stepping out behind George, who was sitting on the edge of the dark wood patio. His feet were dangling over the edge and he was downing a beer. He rested back on one of his hands, looking up to the stars that twinkled bright above us. I sat down next to him; he flinched, noticing me next to him. I asked, “What are you doing out here?”

He shrugged apathetically, answering, “I’m not a party person, I guess.”

I smiled, exclaiming, “Oh come on! Anyone can be a party person, you just have to find the right group of people to hang out with.”

He nodded, taking another sip. I expressed concern, asking, “Should you really be drinking that?”

“Probably not.”

When Nick described George to me, he told me that he was shy and reserved. This George was different; more apathetic. I asked politely, “Did you want to come back inside? You can pretend to like soccer with me!”

He laughed lightly at my joke, which made me smile wider in response. Being able to make him laugh, even a little bit, brightened my day. 

“As much as I’d love to,” he continued, “I think I want to be out here for a while.”

My smile faltered, as I then said, “Well, I’ll see you around then.”

He only nodded in response, finishing the bottle of alcohol in his hand. I slowly stood up, hoping George would change his mind; to no avail. 

With uncertainty, I went back inside, finding Nick and the rest of the group again. There was no point in forcing him; I did want to make a good impression on him after all. 

I sighed, returning to the conversation which luckily changed from the topic of soccer. 

**Toby’s POV**

Fundy and I were standing together towards the middle of the party, trying to find our way to the kitchen past the crowds of people. 

Soon, we did make it to where the kitchen was, but I noticed a freshman (who I saw on the soccer team before), standing in the corner of the room. Usually, I didn’t talk to underclassmen, but seeing him by himself and so… _depressed_ … broke that norm for me. 

I said to Fundy, “Go get us something, I’ll be right back.”

I walked up to the freshman who was scrolling through his phone, visibly annoyed. I greeted, “Hello! I’m Toby!”

He glanced up from his phone, noticing someone completely different in front of him. 

“Uh… Hi? I’m.. Tommy?” He hesitantly responded, shutting his phone off and placing it in the pocket of his hoodie. “Why are you talking to me? You’re a year older than me. Wouldn’t want to shatter that social status, now would you?”

His humor was dark, deflective. He was trying to avoid making friends. But for what reason, was unknown.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. I slowly said, “Well… I don’t really care about a ‘social status’ or whatever you called it, but I just saw you standing by yourself so I wanted to introduce myself! It’s nice to meet you Tommy!”

“Right… Why, exactly, do you want to talk to me? I’m by myself for a reason, obviously. Antisocial. You’re basically begging to be rejected right now, Toby.”

I scoffed lightheartedly, begging, “Oh that’s not fair! Why don’t you come with me and get something from the kitchen? I heard there is a lot of chocolate,” I giggled, trying to lighten the mood that was somewhat unsettling between us. 

“Not in the mood to drink. I’m also underage, and have a soccer game tomorrow morning. I’d prefer to be sober on the field, rather than throwing my guts up in a household I can’t stand to be in right now.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, “I’m not going to force you to drink. I’m really only here for the snacks anyways. The last thing I would want to do is drink… so what do you say?”

“...Why are- Why do you care?” Something in Tommy seemed to switch. He wasn’t building his barricades anymore. “My own fucking brother won’t even speak to me at the moment. Why should I believe that a total stranger sophomore wants to spend time with me? Obviously, I’m too annoying for Wilbur, he found more comfort in being with a lying, colorblind piece of shit! Over his own brother, Toby! What makes you think I’m going to just… Just assume you actually want to spend time with me? Nobody else does!”

My heart seemed to break into two pieces when he spilled all of his troubles onto me. I had no idea what to say back; I couldn’t imagine being in his position, all alone, the one person he latched onto most pushing him away. 

“I… I don’t want you to be lonely because… I was just like you once. When I was a freshman, I had no friends since I just moved here… I guess just seeing you by yourself reminded me of myself last year. I wouldn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone, especially someone I just met!” I explained. 

A realization seemed to hit Tommy. His angry, hurt gaze changed to one of hesitant wonder. “You.. Actually want to spend time with me? I’m annoying, ask literally anyone here... People find me really annoying, and childish. A hassle, as Clay likes to tell me.”

“Oh, well, I don’t find you annoying. I find you quite interesting, actually. I was annoying too when I first came here, or that’s what people liked to tell me,” I joked, “So, are you coming or not? Fundy is probably waiting for me.”

“Who the hell is Fundy?” Tommy asked, pushing himself off of the wall, with intentions to follow Toby. If Wilbur would ignore him, and pretend he didn’t exist in favor of a worthless friend, Tommy would give him the same treatment. Except this time, Tommy had a real friend.

**Dream’s POV**

I pushed myself off of the wall as the group of people I was standing with was starting to disperse to do their own thing. I was still standing with Nick and Karl, who were talking about something completely random. My eyes honed in on Tommy, who was following the sophomore Toby from chess club. I pointed over to them, asking both Nick and Karl, “Since when were they friends?”

Karl shrugged, Nick taunting him, “Why are you always so obsessed with what that freshman is doing? You need to chill, Dream.”

“Shut up Nick,” I mumble, gravitating towards the kitchen where they were both going. 

I entered the kitchen, the both of them laughing and generally having a good time. I sighed, deciding that Nick was right; why was I so obsessed with what he was doing? 

Tommy and I had never been on good terms ever since he moved up to high school. He often called me cocky and egotistical, throwing in the word ‘narcissistic’ here and there. Oftentimes I ignored him, but ever since he had been trying to take my place in the soccer team, he was on my bad side. To put it politely, any chance I got to see where Tommy was generally not having a good time, I took. Lately, I noticed how dejected he was; usually during practice and before games, he would make some backhanded comment towards me, but that never happened. He would just find his way to his gym locker and sit quietly on his phone. 

To see him happy again… well… it would be an understatement to say I was only a little disappointed. 

A part of me wanted to interject into their conversation; but at the same time there was no point. I listened to the two British kids from afar, pretending to grab something from the counter. Their accent reminded me of how weird it was that there was a large population of British kids in the school. I mean, come on? 

As I was fiddling with a cup on the counter thinking about the influx of British kids, I remembered the promise I made to a particular kid from the UK. 

“Oh shit,” I mumbled to myself, running out of the kitchen. 

I darted back to Nick and Karl, asking frantically, “Do you know where George is?”

Nick's face dropped in a sudden realization. 

We _really_ fucked up. 

**George’s POV**

I was on my fifth beer of the night; or at least that's what I remember counting to. I managed to stumble my way into the front yard. It was a lot more peaceful than the inside of the house or the backyard, so I found a spot on the green lawn and sat there, taking in the cool air that rested on top of my skin. 

I dropped my beer beside me, giggling slightly when it spilled onto the grass. I soon began to like the taste of it, and the after-effects. I liked the way it numbed me, and the way I forgot about completely everything. I was in my own little world that no bad thoughts could intrude upon; that was until blinding white headlights and loud music boomed as another car pulled into the driveway of Jimmy’s house. 

I closed my eyes, ignoring the sound of doors slamming and a particularly gruff voice yelling. 

A hand pulled me up from my sitting position. I staggered to stand, asking, “Hey, what is your…”

It wasn’t until I finally stood up that I realized who I was talking to.

The infamous Technoblade. 

He growled, “What are you doing here!? Didn’t I tell you to not come around here, ever?”

Phil stood idly by, his arms crossed as he leaned against the glossy black hood of Techno’s car. 

“I don’t know, did you?” I giggled, which turned into a full laugh. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you!?” Techno yelled, pushing me back onto the grass. 

The force of impact from hitting the ground seemed to sober me up as I realized what was going to happen to me. I looked around, hoping that either Dream or Nick would be nearby--or even Wilbur--but I saw no one. Just empty solo cups and sprinkles of confetti that laid scattered across the lawn. 

“Techno, wai-!” 

A flash of red and black passed through my vision. The feeling of the chilling ground against me was the only comfort I had as I was beat mercilessly into it. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. Only the sound of skin onto skin contact could be heard, and the occasional sound of my ribs cracking as I was kicked in the gut by Phil. Tears threatened to escape my eyes as I doubled over into the fetal position on the ground, hoping that I would just die already to get the torment over with. Every second a new form of pain was given to me, each new form being even more unbearable than the last. I tasted iron; a warm metallic sanguine liquid coated my tongue. I coughed, feeling the substance threatening to choke me, to drown me in its presence. 

I stuck my arms up, hoping to shield some of the blows coming to me or to push them off of me, but since Techno and Phil were a lot bigger than me, they overpowered any sort of defense I tried to put up. 

“DAVE… Dave stop! That’s enough! Oh God…” Phil yelled, but Techno kept going. 

Eventually, the pain started to wear away. A cold, welcoming darkness edged at the corners of my vision. Darkness’ bittersweet arms wrapped around me, pulling me into what I believed to be my final slumber. 

“Get off of him Dave! I WILL MURDER YOU!” an unrecognized voice shouted. 

It was too muffled, and I was too far gone. 

I thought about all of the good memories that I had; the first being the ones with my dad. How we used to go to the park with a chess board, and he’d teach me how to play. I remember that I used to get so frustrated because I never beat him, not even once. I could tell when he checkmated me because he would give me this knowing smile while I scanned the board, trying to figure out what he found so funny. It was the only feature I could remember on his face- the smile. Everything else about him seemed to fade away, but that one particular smile stayed with me. Maybe soon we could play another game together, in the clouds. Maybe I would actually get to beat him, or I would get to see that same expression on his face. 

I remember the first time I met Wilbur and Tommy; my mom offered to take care of my dad’s coworkers children, who just happened to be those two. We would often go to the nearby park (the same park my dad and I used to go to together) and swing together on the swings or play random childrens games. It was such a truly worriless time; the only thing we had to worry about was separating from each other when Wilbur and Tommy had to go home. My best friend, Wilbur- I hoped he wouldn’t miss me when I was gone; it’s a tad unfortunate that we met once again just to part ways once more. The same goes for Tommy, even if we weren’t on the best of terms. I still loved him like a brother, like a _true friend._

After my dad’s death, I remember the smile my mom had on her face for the first time when I told her about my grades at school, and how I got straight A’s. I wanted to see that smile again, because not being able to see it was heart-wrenching. Her usual mopey self was a stark contrast to this bright, proud person she presented to me. It reminded me of the times when dad was alive. The times where we would go as a family to the rocky beaches of Brighton and run down the expanse of the banks. Felicity- a time of pure, unadulterated felicity. 

Even the recent memory of how I felt the first time I met Nick’s parents and Nick himself; how they accepted me with open arms into their home as if I was their own child. I remember the look on Nick’s face when we compared our schedules that first day; it was priceless. 

Or even the way I felt when I first met the beautiful blond boy, Dream. The way we shared that candid and sweet moment at Bad’s family bakery. The way he would smile, and that laugh… God that laugh… it would invoke butterflies in my stomach that just seemed to never go away. The nickname of Dream made sense for him, because hanging out with him compared to being in real life without him was a dream in it of itself. I wished I spent every waking moment I had with him instead of pushing him away on what I believed was my final days. Even on the darkest days, he glowed in comparison. 

A faint smile spread onto my lips as one last tear dipped down the ridge of my cheek. 

I never imagined that the last seconds of my life would be me at a party, drunk out of my mind, with a pink-haired man beating me to a pulp. At least I got to die in dramatic irony, right?

I heard Dream’s voice, the screaming and yelling. The way it cracked as he stood over me; or at least I think he was. He sounded broken beyond repair; his screeches similar to those of a lover who lost their spouse. I remember what that wail sounded like because I heard it nonstop throughout my childhood in Brixton. 

I wanted to speak, to tell him everything was going to be fine, but I couldn’t. I was already too far into the darkness to turn back from it. The calming serenity of the bone chilling black overtook my vision, every single ounce of pain was nonexistent anymore. 

_Maybe in another life,_

I thought to myself, 

_We’ll meet again, Clay._


	12. 11|Hospital|

**Dream’s POV**

The ticking of the wall clock was near enough to make me go mad. Every single second, each tick was antagonizing me, taunting me; telling me that he was gone. That I did it. I killed him. 

Why couldn’t I have just kept my promise?

I forced him to go to the party. I made the promise to protect him; yet what did I do? I pushed him away. He ended up in this situation because of _me._

I could feel the eyes of others in the waiting room; usually I wasn’t opposed to having all eyes on me (I very much enjoyed it) but at that moment I wished I was alone. I didn’t like the way that the old couple glared at me, or how the nurse gave me a shallow, pity-filled gaze as I cried into the palms of my hands. The waiting room was like a different dimension- each second was equal to one eternity. Oftentimes, I found myself jumping up at the sound of hospital staff passing through the room, hoping that they would come out and tell me that he was awake, and that he was breathing. 

His aunt sat to my right. She sat in silence, leaving me to grieve on my own. 

I never really knew her, but I could tell she was worried and trying to hide it for my own sake. I appreciated the gesture, even if it was something so small and unnoticeable. 

“George Davidson?”

Both his aunt and I perked up. 

My heart started to race in my chest as the doctor neared us, her high heels clacking against the shiny, freshly mopped floor. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, _smiling._

“George is doing just fine. You can visit him now.”

**George’s POV**

_Beep… beep… beep…_

I groaned softly, adjusting to the brightness of the artificial lights. 

My throat was unpleasantly dry, but that seemed like the least problematic of my issues when I finally snapped into reality- I was in a hospital room. 

Large machines sat next to me, beeping and generally just making random sounds. An IV bag sat to my immediate left, and it was almost completely drained of fluid. It was eerily quiet, except for the white noise of machinery. I didn’t hear anyone in the halls; no voices, no footsteps, nothing. 

On my right arm was a cast, and on my torso was a different cast. I shuttered, remembering why I had the casts- Techno and Phil. 

I remembered every single thing that happened; the way each kick and punch was dealt. Phantom pains tingled on my body, reminding me exactly how it felt.

I felt cold and lonely in that neutral-toned hospital room, alone to my own thoughts. 

The tapping of sneakers gradually got louder, slashing through the soft white noise. It stopped abruptly outside of my door. I held my breath, unsure what I was scared of. The nurse on the other side of the door gently opened it, carrying a tray which seemed to hold some tubes labelled different colors and a needle. Her face brightened when she saw me, and she asked, “How are you feeling?”

I cleared my throat, coarsely answering, “Uh… I don’t know. I could really use some water.”

She laughed lightheartedly, replying, “I’ll get that for you after I tell the doctor you’re awake. Just let me take some blood samples.”

“Alright,” I complied, holding out my arm. 

She efficiently took my blood and left, leaving me to my own personal solitude. My mind immediately drifted to thoughts of Clay; I wondered how he was doing, and if I got to see him again soon. 

My near-death experience made me realize something, and that maybe I shouldn’t hide my feelings for the taller because I only have so much time in this life; I mean who knows when I might get beat down again?

Another female entered the room, but this time it was the doctor. She gave me a kind smile, adjusting the black glasses that rested on her face. 

“Hello,” she flipped through the papers on her clipboard, continuing, “Mr. Davidson. Is there anything bothering you right now?”

“Uhm… no,” I answered. 

To be completely honest, I was unsure; I hadn’t really had time to assess how I felt. I guess I just felt alright. 

“Good, good,” she wrote down some things on her clipboard, clicking her pen. She explained, “Well, it seems like you should be fine to return to school in a week or so. You’re injuries aren’t uh… they aren’t as bad as we expected, but you do have a concussion so I want you to take it easy for the next month or so, alright? Other than that, is there anything you have questions about?”

I shook my head, avoiding eye contact with the doctor. She pushed her hair back behind her shoulder, saying a simple goodbye before she left my room once again. 

Now that she did mention the concussion, I felt a slight ache in my head, but it was manageable. Slowly, it was becoming more prominent and worse. I sat, playing with my fingers. It felt like the longest five minutes of my life before the nurse came back with the water I requested, and my aunt. 

My aunt had such a worried look written over her face; when she saw me, she exclaimed, “Good God, I’m so glad you’re alright! I was so worried about you, and so was Andy!” 

She brought me in for a hug--well, at least a somewhat hug--and she explained, “You will be out of here soon, I promise. Oh and that… devil of a boy, he was suspended from school for a long, long time. He won’t be coming back for a while. I will not hesitate to press charges, but that's completely up to you. You are 18 and all.”

I nod, taking in all of the information. 

“Can… can I just… think about it?” I asked. 

“Oh, of course honey! Take your time, you should be resting right now anyways. I think Clay should be coming soon, so I guess I’ll leave you to yourself. I need to get back to work, there was an emergency.”

“Oh, uhm alright. Bye.”

She left with a simple wave and smile, holding the door open for Clay to enter. He smiled brightly at me. His eyes were red as if he had been crying for a long time. His hair was even more wild looking than it usually is. He exclaimed, “George! You’re alright!”

He laughed lightly, hugging me the best he could. I mumbled, “Yeah, mostly.”

His eyes filled with tears again as he sat in the chair next to me, pulling it closer to my bedside. 

“You… you don’t know how worried I was, George… I…” his words trailed off into nothingness, but I didn’t push on. 

He was heartbroken, for me. 

My heart swelled at the worry he displayed for me; the fact he broke down his barriers to show his emotions made me love him even more, if that was possible. 

He took my hand into his lightly so he didn’t mess with the IV needle sticking out of it. I smiled softly at the gentleness of his nature. He opened his mouth, taking a second to collect his thoughts before he explained, “I… this is all my fault, George. I told you that I would protect you, and I didn’t. I would completely understand if you were mad at me, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t mad at myself too. Mad at Nick especially for giving you alcohol…” he laughed softly at his own joke. 

I sniffled, feeling tears start to run down my own cheeks. 

“Clay… I, I’m not mad at you. If anything I should have stayed with you. I was just too caught up in my own emotions, and I got drunk because of them,” I rambled, looking into his gentle, understanding eyes. 

“George, you’re too forgiving, you know that?” he chuckled, heaving out a shaky breath. 

I leaned forward, wiping away a stray tear that ran down his cheek. My hand rested lightly on his chin, my thumb running over his smooth skin. His left hand rose to my own, meeting it at the point on his face. His fingers created tingles on my own as our eyes caught the others in some sort of trance. 

“George,” he mumbled breathlessly. 

“George! You’re alive!” Nick screeched, bounding into the hospital room with a box of chocolate covered raisins and what I believed to be pink flowers (or gray). 

Clay and I backed away from each other just as quickly as the moment was ruined; Clay cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair while I went back to my cup of tap water. 

Nick laughed, almost jumping onto my bed. He sat on the edge, handing me the presents he thoughtfully picked out. Luckily, he didn’t notice the situation that Clay and I were in moments before. I laughed, remembering why he got me the chocolate covered raisins.

“Of course you got chocolate covered raisins,” opening the box and popping one into my mouth. 

Nick giggled, explaining to Dream, “When we were young and George visited us in America, he insisted on buying this large thing of chocolate covered raisins from the store. He ended up getting it too, after he threw a fit,” Nick laughed, reminiscing over the event. 

“I can’t believe you remember that,” I added casually, finishing the rest of my water. 

“Why chocolate covered raisins?” Dream asked. 

“Because they slap what else am I supposed to say?” I added, slowly forgetting about everything that happened with the casual banter between us all. 

I took the flowers from Nick, asking, “What colors are these?”

Dream wondered awkwardly, “Uhm, why?”

“He’s colorblind,” Nick laughed, telling me, “They’re pink. That’s the only color they had.”

“Oh, they just look gray to me,” I mumbled, placing them on the tray table that sat over the bed. 

“Imagine being colorblind, liking chocolate raisins, and being from the UK- such a struggle,” Nick teased, poking me. 

“Ow Nick, what is it ‘pick on George’ day? What the hell is this?” 

They both laughed, changing the topic to something else. Slowly, but surely, the pieces of our friendship were slowly starting to build back up again. I took every moment I got with them, hoping that I could have more moments like these (except without the casts and the hospital room). If I could freeze time, I would freeze it right at that exact moment; it was a moment where time seemed to stop, and where all of the troubles we had seemed to fade away. All we did was enjoy the presence of each other. 

Eventually, Nick had to leave because my aunt and uncle wanted him home early (he was grounded for giving me alcohol and drinking it) so Dream and I were left by ourselves. 

The point in our conversation seemed to lull, and we both sat comfortably, just revelling in the moment. I asked, “Who… who saved me at the party?”

Dream’s eyes flickered to the window, a blush creeping over his face as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I did…” he simply said, looking back over to me. 

Slowly, pieces of the night were starting to come back to me. I remembered Dream (or who I believed to be Dream) standing over me and screaming this blood curdling scream on my behalf. 

“Uh, thank you Dream.”

Our silence turned awkward as we both avoided looking at the other. He then took my hand, and he said, “And I would do it again. In a heartbeat.”

I laughed, replying, “That was cheesy.”

“Sure,” he smirked. “But I know you liked it, why else would you be blushing?”

I covered my face with my hands, groaning. He was insufferable at times, but that's also the thing I liked about him. He could make me flustered with even just a simple glance, and he knew it. 

A nurse interrupted our awkwardness, informing Dream that he had to leave because visiting hours were over. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow George,” he let go of my hand, “I promise.”

“And I’ll hold you to that promise, Clay.”

He simply smiled, walking behind the nurse who was directing him out. 

Once again I was left in my own silence and solitude- but this time, it was different. 

I was completely complacent with the loneliness. In fact, I welcomed it. 

Instead of thinking about the things that went wrong, I thought about all of the things that went right. For once, everything was going my way. 

Asides from the concussion and the broken bones, I was doing way better here than I was back in Britain. 

I grinned to myself, reclining into my elevated hospital bed. 

_Maybe I’ll give America a second chance._


	13. 12|No Techno In Sight|

**George’s POV**

For once, I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night because a nurse was taking a blood sample; this day, I woke up in the comfort of the single bed that sat in Nick’s room. I smiled, looking up into the ceiling of the room, which had a faint glow of artificial lights from Nick’s rainbow backlit keyboard. 

I groaned, sitting up and stretching. Nick was still in bed, snoring. Eventually I got used to the snoring, but it wasn’t easy. 

Dream said he was going to pick me up to go to school; Nick didn’t seem to mind so I agreed. I think he still felt bad for leaving me alone at the party, even though I told him it was fine. I couldn’t hold a grudge against him. 

During my hospital stay, Dream did visit me every single day, and all we did was hang out. He even missed practice once for me, even though I told him that he didn’t have to. It wasn’t fair of him to do it- to risk his future for me. 

Once I got ready, I made my way outside to the familiar red pick-up truck that Dream owned. He was blasting music as usual, a huge smile on his face. I couldn’t help but smile in return when I entered the smaller truck. 

For once, I was excited to go to school; only because I knew I would be sitting alone in AP Physics. 

“Dream, you don’t have to carry my bag, I’m fine,” I reassured, trying to take it back from him. 

“No, I’ll carry it for you!” 

He threw the bag over his shoulder opposite of the bag he was already wearing. 

“Fine, just take me to my locker,” I laughed, walking side by side with Dream. 

A few people glared at us, whispering to each other and snickering as we all walked into the brick building. I quickly lost the smile I had on my face and started to play with my fingers, trying to keep them out of my mind. I didn’t want them to ruin my day. I looked up to Dream; he was glaring back to the group of people whispering, which made them stop immediately. It was almost worrying how much power Dream had over other students who went to this school. 

“Are you alright, George?” He asked, a worried hint in his voice. 

“Uhm… just a little anxious,” I giggled awkwardly, opening the door to the building. “But I’m fine though.”

“Okay, well if people are bothering you, ever, tell me. Please.”

“Alright,  _ simp _ ,” I joked. 

He stopped, turning to me. He simply threw my bag on the ground and said, “I am not a simp!”

“Dream why did you do that!?” I yelled, struggling to pick up my bag. 

“I’m not a simp,” he mumbled. 

“Fine, you’re not a simp, can you please take my bag to my locker?” I laughed. 

“Fine,” he smiled, taking my bag back from me. 

As soon as we made it to the main stairway of the highschool, tons of people crowded around the stairs, yelling as soon as I got near, “Welcome back George!”

I looked at the group of gleaming faces who were cheering. I laughed awkwardly, covering my face with the end of my sleeve; it was a nice gesture but it was still embarrassing. 

“T… thank you!” I cheered back. 

A teacher came down the stairs, breaking up the crowd of people. She gave Dream and I a warning look, pushing past us to go down a hall. I asked, “Dream, did you do that?”

“What? No, never. I’m not a simp,” he smiled. 

I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I continued to walk down the hall to my locker. Once we made it, I opened it, noticing blue flowers sitting in the top shelf. 

“Dream! Why are you doing all of this?” I laughed. 

“What? I didn’t do anything, it must’ve been someone else,” he looked away.

“Sure, sure. Why would people even care that I’m back? I’m a no one.”

Dream redirected his attention back to me, explaining, “To be fair, you did get hospitalized by one of the most popular soccer players. I’m sure people know who you are now if they didn’t before.”

“Yeah…”

We stood in an awkward silence as I fumbled to put away my books and papers. 

“I’ll see you tonight then, at the chess club meeting,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. 

“Oh right, I forgot about that. I’m not sure I want to go,” I mumbled, putting away my bag and closing my locker. 

“What!? No! You have to go!”

“Uhm, why?”

“Well… um… just go, just go. Please?”

He looked at me with puppy dog eyes and his lip quivered. My heart seemed to swell; I couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, if you insist.”

“Yay!”

The bell rang, to which we both broke away, heading to our respective classes. 

  
  


**Tommy’s POV**

I had to be honest with myself, the last few days had been tense and awkward between my brother and I. After Wilbur left me alone that one day at lunch, we barely spoke two sentences to each other, and it’s only been getting worse.

It’s not bothering me. Honestly, it’s not.

If Wilbur wanted to branch away, make amends with a liar, and be friends with George again, who am I to stop him? I can’t control Wilbur’s life. Just because I can’t make friends, doesn’t mean I have the right to handicap Wilbur.

Doesn’t mean it still isn’t painful. 

But it didn’t matter anymore! I had Toby now. Toby, the sweetheart he was, who put me before himself (he really shouldn’t do that. I am not worth that hassle). Toby, who brought me into his friend group and accepted me as an ally, and not a loud, annoying freshman.

Toby, who cared more about me than Wilbur did.

The second both of us walked through the doors of the school that morning, we split up. Wilbur went off to meet up with Darryl and Zak, while I went to my locker to wait for Toby. I needed a few things for my first class, anyway, and I needed to store my soccer bag.

As I grabbed the Biology textbook from the bottom of my locker and the Geometry folder from the top half, I picked up the noise of a couple people cheering behind me.

“Welcome back, George!”

Lovely...

I turned from my locker, just barely noticing the teacher disperse the cheering students, and I sent a glare George and Clay’s way (good. They deserve it), and walked away. I turned after that, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. George was practically the entire talk of my house the last few days. Starting with Wilbur happily ranting about how he “fixed the problem” with his best friend, and rekindled the friendship, and now the nervous ranting about whether George would survive the insane beatdown from the party. 

Whether Wilbur ever noticed how talking about George made me feel like I wanted to curl up into the corner of my room and cry of loneliness, I would never know. 

I just barely picked up on Clay begging George to return to Chess today (what a fucking simp, I thought bitterly), before slamming my locker shut and walking off to my first class, abandoning the idea of waiting for Toby.

\---

As my classes went by, and the realization that Toby wasn’t showing up hit me, I worked myself up into thinking I could handle sitting alone today. After being abandoned that first time, it’s been an inner nightmare to walk into the cafeteria, and take my table alone. But, I had to do it. I’m the Big Man! People can’t see me weak; they can use that weakness against me.

When the bell went off, ending my last class before lunch, I took a deep breath. This was it, I thought to himself.

I closed my laptop and put it in my backpack, zipping it up and standing from my seat. I let the rest of my Graphics 1 class filter out before going alone, hoping the wait would allow me to avoid walking in at the same time as George or Wilbur. 

Entering the cafeteria was more terrifying than my “audition” for the varsity soccer team. The crushing weight of so many people watching me walk to my table alone felt like a huge rock sitting on my chest, disabling my ability to breathe.

Another deep breath, Big Man. They can't see you sweat. 

I worked myself up to walking in, and took the path I always took to my table. I sat in the seat I always sat in, my gaze constantly scanning around to find Wilbur. Maybe, today would be different. Today, Wilbur would decide to acknowledge my existence and sit with me again. Things would go back to normal.

That happy anxiety I got when trying to create that perfect world was shattered, sunken to the bottom of my stomach when Wilbur, once again, sat with Zak and Darryl. 

Abandoned. Again.

With a quiet, pained sigh, I pushed my lunch away from me and put my head down on the table. I put my earbuds in to avoid any conversation with anyone who might try.

But let’s be honest, was anyone going to?

\---

**George’s POV**

It was my study hall once again, and I was sitting next to Fundy. For once it was silent; most of the people in the study hall were actually working. The only thing you could hear was the clicking of Fundy’s keyboard keys and the soft rippling of paper being flipped over. I, for one, just sat and enjoyed the silence while occasionally glancing over to Fundy’s screen to see what he was doing (which was coding; not too surprising for him). 

The silence was therapeutic; I welcomed the silence. For once, I wasn’t scared of my own thoughts, nor was I anxious for anything. Things were going MY way, and I took every moment I could with much enthusiasm, because I had no idea what would be next for me or what would happen if Techno came back. 

I jilted my daydream when the bell rang and Fundy asked, “Are you going to the club meeting tonight?”

“Oh, uh yeah.”

He grinned devilishly, continuing, “Good, good. Well I’ll see you there!” 

He dashed off with his items, stumbling past other students. He was obviously in a hurry for something, but I had no clue what. The chess club meeting wasn’t even supposed to be that important for the day.

_ He’s acting rather strange,  _ I thought to myself. 

I hummed a simple tune as I gingerly strided down the hallway, generally having a good day. 

“Boo!” 

I jumped, almost passing away. Quickly, I turned around to face the mystery “boo-er”, only to realize it was Dream. My facial expression quickly changed from surprised to annoyed when I saw the dopey, lopsided smile that was kept on his face. 

“Dream!” I exclaimed, turning back around to find my locker. 

“Haha! You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

He wheezed, catching up to my pace. 

“You’re so annoying,” I mumbled, opening my locker. 

I tried to keep a straight face, but with him laughing his signature “tea kettle wheeze”, it was near impossible. I burst out laughing too, only bringing Dream to a laugh of greater intensity. People around us stared at us as if we were pleading insanity, but I didn’t really care; I was having too much of a good time with Dream. 

“Dream shut up!” I yelled, hitting him lightheartedly on the shoulder. 

“OKAY okay, I’ll stop,” he giggled lightly.

“Good, people are staring,” I added. 

“So?” 

I joked, “I’m sorry, I forgot Mr. Ego.”

He scoffed, walking on the left as me as we headed to the chess club meeting. 

“Fundy was acting so weird last period. I mean, he just asked me if I was going to the club meeting and then ran off!” I rambled, continuing, “Why are you all so adamant about me going anyways?”

“I don’t know, kinda weird,” he shrugged, simply replying. 

Dream pushed open the door to the library, which had its lights off. 

“Can you get the light?” Dream asked. 

“Sure.”

Within the second of me flipping the switch, I was engulfed with shouts of “Welcome back!” along with a hug from Bad. I laughed, glancing around the library to see party balloons, some streamers, muffins, and a small black and white cake on the table. 

“Aw you guysss,” I said, walking up to the table surrounded by all of the club members except for Toby (who was sick), and Techno. 

“We had to!” Fundy said, cutting a piece of the cake. 

Bad then added, “Yeah, we are glad to have our muffin back!”

I asked, “Did you do this Dream?”

“No, I didn’t, it was all them,” he answered. 

“Shut up, you are such a simp. Dream planned the whole thing,” Zak explained. 

“What? No I… I…”

“Just accept you’re a massive simp for me Dream, I already know,” I joked, taking a seat in front of the cake. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, sitting down next to me. 

It would be a lie if I told you that we did anything related to chess during that meeting; the whole time we just blasted music in the library and ate the cake that Bad brought from his family's bakery. To be honest, it felt like I did have a real family, and that real family was all of the members who attended the party. The fact that they even thought about me, and wanted to throw a party for me warmed my heart in many different ways; I just felt so loved and welcome. 

Eventually, the party did have to end because a lot of the members had to go home and we weren’t allowed to stay in the library for much longer before the janitorial staff had to clean it. Once mostly everyone left, Dream and I were left cleaning up some of the paper plates and the half empty styrofoam cups filled with soda. 

“You guys threw a party for me, and yet I have to clean up?” I complain, throwing some streamers into a trashcan. 

“To be fair, you did volunteer.”

“Just to be nice! I didn’t think I’d actually have to DO it,” I mumbled. 

We fell into more silence as we finished cleaning up. 

“I’ll see you Monday Dre-”

He interrupted me, asking, “Hey, if you’re not busy, did you want to hang out tomorrow?”

I shrugged, looking back to him. 

“Uhm, I don’t know, where are we going?”

He scratched the back of his neck, explaining, “Well, I wanted to tell you something, and I think it would be better if I told you somewhere else.”

“Way to be so cryptic Dream, but yes, I’ll hang out with you tomorrow,” I laughed lightly. 

“Oh, um, great!” He replied, wondering, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, not today. I kind of want to walk.”

“Alright, well… see you tomorrow!” He waved, heading to the direction of his car. 

I watched him as he got into his car, turning up music and speeding away. I smiled at him as he passed me, deciding to walk in the direction of Nick’s house. 

I took small strides, enjoying the scenery around me. At one point in my life, I was making fun of the suburban look, but now I was coming to respect and even like it. Everything was just so perfect, so shiny and bright. Before the incident, I didn’t want to be here, but at that moment I felt lucky to be there and I wanted to take it as a blessing of sorts; it’s crazy how your outlook on life could change the way you view your surroundings.

I was excited to hang out with Dream the next day, I was wondering what would be so important that he would have to tell me at a “special place”? 

After a long internal contemplation, I decided to leave that question unanswered for Dream to answer the very next day. 


	14. 13|Adventure With Me|

**Dream’s POV**

My fingers tapped against the leather covered steering wheel. The light clicked, turning to a bright green. The car engine roared as my car was put into motion. I brushed my hair back, chewing on my bottom lip. I was extremely worried; usually, I wasn’t an anxious person, but whenever it came to George, he just created so much butterflies and anxiety even when he only looked at me. Never has someone made me feel that way, and I can say that with complete confidence. 

The sun was close to setting, which was the time I said that I would pick up George to take him to a special place; well it wasn’t that special. I just never shared it with anyone before. It was a place I went to just think when everything seemed to be against me; I was excited to share it with him, since it meant so much to me. 

I pulled into Nick’s ginormous driveway, beeping the car horn. A disheveled George dashed out the front door, giving me the biggest smile he could give. He heaved himself into the passenger seat, buckling up.

“What are you rushing for?” I asked. 

I put the car into reverse, backing out and away from the driveway. George answered, “Well, I didn’t want to take forever.”

I laughed lightly, turning up the music to a loud level. 

He rested his head against the window, looking at the passing scenery. I continued to drive, focusing on the road. George and I had the music to fill the silence between us, making it not so tense. 

\---

I drove into the abandoned parking lot; it was hidden away in a wooded area where a waterpark used to be. Ever since they tore down the waterpark, they never bothered to rip out the parking lot. No authorities ever come around, and not many people know about it so it’s empty all of the times I go. George asked, “Where are we?”

I parked the car, answering, “I always come here to think; it isn’t anything special, but I thought here would be a good place for us to talk since it’s so… by itself.”

“Oh… uh okay.”

“Follow me,” I command, grabbing a blanket and two strawberry Fantas from the back of the truck cabin. 

I climb onto the bed of my truck, giving George a helping hand up. He hesitantly grabbed my hand, pulling himself up onto it with me. We smiled at each other, seating ourselves against the back of the truck cabin, staring at the sky which turned different hues of orange, red and pink; it was a perfect harmonious amalgamation of colors; although it made me feel slightly bad that George couldn’t see the exact thing I could see. 

“What does it look like to you, George?”

“Hmm?”

I shifted, pulling one of my knees close to my chest while resting my arm on top of it. 

“Well,” I added, “What does the sunset look like to you?”

He shrugged, explaining, “It just looks like someone took a piss in the sky.”

I laughed, asking, “What?”

“How else am I supposed to describe it? It doesn’t look like anything special.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded, looking back to the sky. 

“It looks probably a lot different from what you’re seeing George. The sky… it’s warm. Not just yellow, but also a vibrant orange, which is like a dark yellow. Then there is red, which is like the color of anger, and it stripes across the bottom of the sky towards the horizon… It… I wish you could see it,” I rambled, looking over to him. 

“It does sound… really nice,” he mumbled, returning my gaze. “What did you want to tell me, Dream? I’m sure you didn’t just come here to tell me about how the sunset looks.”

I opened my strawberry Fanta, taking a small sip. 

“George… I… I guess I have something to tell you. About me. This is going to be hard… to say,” I looked down at the bottle in my hands, playing with the label. 

“It’s alright Dream,” he reassured, “You can tell me anything. I promise.”

I smiled, looking back up to him. A few tears started to develop in my eyes, streaming down my cheeks. His face turned to concern as he asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I… I’m… I’m bisexual George,” I blurted out. 

He smiled softly, pulling me into a warm, accepting hug. 

“I… I’m gay Dream, I’m gay,” he sputtered out, tearing up himself. 

I pulled away from him. One of my hands rested on his jaw, my thumb swiping away the stream of tears that fell down his porcelain skin. A million stars laid in his eyes; more breathtaking than the sunset that was dissipating behind us. His eyes became half-lidded as his hand rested on top of mine which rested on his jaw, almost challenging me to pull him closer. 

Well, challenge accepted. 

I pulled the smaller boy’s lips closer to my own, his warm breath dancing past his parted lips and onto my face. A small smile ghosted the corners of his lips as I used both of my hands to pull him all the way in. Our lips slotted against the others in a perfect unison; it was similar to finding the correct puzzle piece, or two Lego bricks snapping perfectly together. An explosion erupted in my chest, devastating all of my nerves and organs. 

I was finally doing it, I was kissing the boy of my dreams. 

We pulled away with great uncertainty, already wanting to return to another kiss. 

No more words were spoken; all of the words that needed to be said were passed through the trusting gazes we gave each other. We fell into place once again, hungering for the delicate yet addicting kisses. George’s hands migrated up to the upper half of my torso, resting firmly against my body. 

We backed away once again. Our breath was heavy from the lack of oxygen to our lungs. He smiled even wider now, dropping his hands from my torso. 

He asked, “What, what does this mean for us?”

“George, will you be my boyfriend?”

His grin widened into the widest smile I have ever seen; the corners of his lips revealed perfect teeth which gleamed bright. 

“Is that even a question, Clay?”

“I hope not.”

I pulled him in by the collar of his hoodie for one more kiss. He happily complied, pulling away only moments later to get some breath. It was a bit of an awkward transition from our romantic endeavors to a normal conversation, but we managed. I threw the blanket I brought over us, bringing the brunette into my lap. He giggled, clasping his hands into mine on his lap. I rested my chin on his shoulder, looking up to the shining stars. 

  
“This has been my favorite day in America by far,” George said quietly. 

I chuckled, agreeing, “Me too.”

He hummed, turning his head to give me a kiss on the side of the head. 

“We should do more stuff like this, Clay.”

  
“More adventures?”

He nodded, replying, “I want to see all of America with you.”

“So let’s do it.”

“What?”

“After we graduate. Let’s just go and see the world. Just you and me.”

“Where would we go first?” He wondered.

“Wherever. Just drive in one direction, never look back. Just see where the road takes us, y’know?” I answered. 

We sat in silence for a few seconds before he answered, “I think I’d like that very much.”

I smiled, hugging him tighter and placing a small kiss on the back of his neck. 


	15. 14|Just Another Chance At Normal|

**George’s POV**

**Wilbur**

_ want to come to the park? _

**You**

_ sure. _

Nick dropped me off at the park as per my request, speeding away to go to Karl’s house. 

I glanced around the park which was pretty normal. It had usual things, such as swings, a playset, and some pavilions. A tall boy with brown hair sat on top of a picnic table with guitar in hand and a notebook he was scribbling into at his side. I smiled internally, striding towards him. Wilbur looked up from his notebook, giving me a soft smile while returning to whatever he was writing. 

I greeted him, sliding onto the picnic table right next to him, glancing over at his notebook. 

“What are you writing?” I asked. 

"A song I've been working on," Wilbur responded. "I've been working on it for a while now. Want to hear it so far?"

I shrug and nod, listening to him as he found his finger placement, strumming the first chord. 

Wilbur's focus went into each string and finger placement, working his way up to singing with a hum. In the last 10 years, his voice had never changed. Deeper, yes, but never changed.

It was angelic as ever.

My mouth fell open slightly as I listened to the smooth cadence of his words, and what each one meant. It was a slow, somber song, but still beautiful. 

“Wilbur… it’s beautiful,” I slowly said, shocked. 

Wilbur responded with a chuckle, setting his guitar down to rub the back of his neck. "Thanks, George. I've been working on it for a while, now."

“Well, I think it’s really good, but why are you working on it here, at a park?” I motioned to the park around us.

"It got me out of the house. Between Tommy being in his bitchy mood, and now my parents' patience running short with him, I needed to get out. So I came here."

“What happened with you and Tommy?” I asked, playing with the end of my hoodie strings. 

"He's on my case about being friends with you. We both know Tommy holds grudges, and he still holds one over you. But you know, George, I can't deal with it anymore. I'm so over being a babysitter. He's fifteen! A freshman in high school! He needs to get over his issues and just- Just grow up. I haven't had real friends in years because of him. I'm done."

He threw his hands up in frustration, brushing back his hair. I replied, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know I kind of broke you guys apart. I… I wish he would know that I was sorry, but I doubt he’ll even give me the time of day to say one word to him!” 

Wilbur's tone softened as he released the tension in his shoulders. "It's not your fault. It's his, for refusing to listen to me. I tried telling him, and he refused to listen. He's just not worth the stress anymore.. You know? I love him, but I can't deal with him constantly anymore."

I nodded gently; I felt guilty for breaking the relationship that Wilbur had with Tommy. They were inseparable when I first came to this high school. 

“I see what you mean,” I replied softly. 

He nodded in response, leaving us in a somewhat tense silence. I continued to play with the ends of my hoodie strings, unsettled by the distraught expression on his face as he looked down to the words on his notebook. 

"Hey, I didn't know you were friends with Clay," Wilbur said out of nowhere. "When did you two start talking?"

"Uhm… we started talking because of chess club and Nick, mostly," I smiled, thinking of the blond-haired soccer player. "He's… he's… wonderful…" 

I was reminded of the night previous; the way my chest seemed to explode when our lips connected into a first kiss. It was pure ecstasy. 

Wilbur started observing the lovestruck look I got. “Is there something else there?” He asked. “I know that look of yours. You’re definitely pining over him.”

"Well," I laughed, still replaying yesterday's events in my head, "Dream and I… we're together now." 

I looked over to Wilbur for any sign of acceptance or happiness on my behalf. 

Wilbur’s eyes, thankfully, lit up. “That’s amazing, man! I’m really proud of you for accepting that, and getting the guy of your dreams. What are the odds, the man of your dreams is literally nicknamed 'Dream'?”

I laughed lightly, overly happy with his response. 

"I don't know honestly, but maybe it was just a sign, or something. The universe was trying to tell me something," I smiled, looking down to my shoes. "Thank you though, Wilbur. You're really… just thank you for being so accepting." 

“Like I said last week, I know how it feels to be isolated and alone. I hate seeing people being so unaccepting of other people. Plus, it’s my job as your best friend,” He teased with a chuckle. “I accept everything.”

"Well, I don't know if you wanna say THAT, that might get you cancelled," I laughed, knocking into him lightly with my shoulder in a playful fashion. 

“I don’t care, I’m saying it anyway! It’s my duty to be there for you no matter what, and agree with everything, whether it’s stupid or not. Deal with it, Gogy,” Wilbur couldn’t fight the smirk that came along with the 10 year old nickname.

"Gross, I can't believe you still call me 'Gogy'. You are the only person on this Earth that calls me Gogy," I laughed, reminiscing our childhood together. 

We fell into a small bout of silence, but it was welcome. I blurted out, "I really missed just hanging out like this, with you Wilbur." 

“I missed it, too. It’s not too great, being stuck with your brother constantly all the time. I love that kid to death, but sometimes he makes me want to rip my strings off my guitar, and burn them. I know that letter said he and I are closer, but he’s still really annoying sometimes. He’s just so… Clingy! I just don’t understand why he can’t break away and make new friends. It doesn’t make sense to me at all.” He turned to face George quickly. “Not that I blame you! I don’t, it isn’t your fault. I just.. I’ve held this in for so long. I needed to rant.”

I nodded, not really understanding what he meant since I was an only child, but I tried to understand. I didn't really know how to reply, but I responded, "I can't really relate to you, but I can imagine it to be annoying… if you ever need to talk Wilbur, you can always call me. Or you can invite me to the park again." 

Children ran past us, yelling a simple "hi" while trying to tackle one another. I smiled at their antics, looking at the empty swings. 

"Did you want to go on the swings?" I asked, half-serious, half-joking. 

“If you pay me to reenact the time I fell off, then yes. If not, I’ll pay you to do something really stupid.”

"Uhm…" I pulled out my wallet, which only had a few pounds and a candy wrapper, "I don't have any American dollars… I guess you'll have to pay me."

“Damn,” Wilbur teased with a smile. “I was looking forward to a concussion today. What stupid shit can I make you do for twenty bucks?”

"Twenty bucks!? We're poppin off!" I clapped, waiting for him to give me a mission. 

Wilbur’s eyes scanned the entire park, looking for something, anything, to place for the bet. Nothing really stood out to him. Anything he could ask me to do would be stupid or too easy.

“How about…. Uh… Who all do you even talk to in school? Prank call someone, that’ll make you sweat.”

"Uhh…" I looked through the contacts in my phone, not seeing very many people. "I guess I could prank call Dream… but what would I say?" 

I looked at Dream's contact in my phone, changing the name to include a green heart next to the name (or maybe yellow, I can't really tell). Wilbur looked off into the distance, contemplating what to say. 

“Hmmm… Pretend to be lost or something. Scare tactic.”

I laughed, saying, "The twenty US dollars will be mine!" 

I quickly tapped the call icon next to Dream's name, hearing a ring before he finally picked up. I put the phone on speaker so Wilbur could hear. 

"Yes baby?" He asked as he picked up. 

I held back a laugh as I pretended to be distressed, yelling, "Dream… I-I don't know where I am! I just… I-"

I heard him adjust in his seat as he asked, "Wait. what?" 

"I just started walking… and I got lost and… I fell and I… I don't know I'm scared, Dream!"

Wilbur and I were holding in our laughs as hard as he could as Dream replied, "Wait, WHAT!? Okay… um… keep calm baby, okay? Where- where are you?" 

His voice was audibly shaking as I heard some rustling behind the phone. Wilbur waved his hand, signalling 1, 2, and 3 before we both yelled, "IT'S JUST A PRANK!" simultaneously. 

Both of us started coughing up laughs as I heard all rustling and feedback from the other end silence. 

"Dream?" I ask, still kind of laughing. 

Wilbur quieted down, listening for Dream. 

No response. 

"Clay?" I asked lightly. 

"Whaaattt the fuck George?" He groaned, huffing. 

"I'm… I'm sorry Clay… if it makes you feel any better, I'll split the twenty dollars I won with you… please forgive me." 

"Oh, well I don't know," he sighed. 

"Please? I'm literally offering you ten dollars."

"Ten dollars, PLUS you should tell me you love me."

I could hear his dumbass smirk through the screen; he was truly annoying. 

“You’re a simp, Clay. A huge simp,” Wilbur teased between his chuckles.

"Oh, is that Wilbur?" Dream asked nervously. 

"Yeah, why?" I asked. 

"Well, I didn't think we were telling anyone about us," he said quietly. 

“It’s okay, Clay. My lips are sealed,” Wilbur said softly. “Not my secret to tell, man. It’s yours.”

Dream sighed through the phone as I said, "Wilbur is fine Dream, don't worry about it."

He hesitated, before replying, "I still get ten dollars though," before hanging up on me. 

"How rude!" l yelled. 

“I seriously did not realize Clay needed his afternoon naps to be in a good mood,” Wilbur teased. “Wow, he was moody. Is his soccer withdrawal kicking in? They haven’t played a game in like, a week.”

I shrugged, explaining, "I don't know. Maybe, but I think he was worried about me telling you. I don't think he has come out to anyone. I hope he isn't too mad at me."

“I think he’ll get over it when you hand him the ten bucks. Speaking of!” Wilbur pulled out his wallet and handed over the promised money. “You won, mate."

I lit up at the sight of the green paper bill, snatching it from his hands. 

"Yes! I'm rich!" I exclaimed, examining the US bill as I had never seen one before. "Thank you Wilbur." 

He nodded, leaving us in another silence. 

"Well, I think I should probably go home. My aunt will be mad if I'm late for dinner," I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. 

“I need to go home, too. I have to walk Tommy to the school. He has private soccer practice. Our parents still won’t let him walk alone,” Wilbur muttered with the roll of his eyes.

"He isn't a child anymore, he should be able to go himself. He's a literal freshman," Wilbur nodded, agreeing with me. "We should hang out again, this was fun!" I cheered. 

“Agreed,” Wilbur responded with a smile and a nod. “This was nice; to finally get out and be normal for once. Not under the watchful eye of my parents, or the babysitter of a teenager. Just being normal… I need it more often. We both do.”

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed. "Nothing has been normal since I got here to be honest. Well, I'll see you later Wilbur!" 

I waved, heading off in the direction of Nick's house. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to get a ride from Nick, since he was staying with Karl late for the umpteenth time in a row. 

As I walked, I thought about what Wilbur said; another chance at normal. I liked that. Ever since the incident that happened with Techno and I, it felt like things were becoming as normal as they could; I mean, what could go wrong? 

Right?


	16. 15|Private Practice|

Tommy’s Point of View

Private practices didn’t happen too often. Half the experience of being on a sports team, was the experience of team bonding. Having that two hour time slot to spend time with the people you play a game with is the better part of the experience.

That being said, having some private practice every once in a while isn’t too bad. Especially for me.

In short, soccer has been a power struggle lately. Between the stress of Wilbur and George on my shoulders, and the newfound social anxiety that’s formed since being abandoned, it’s been hard to motivate myself into wanting to play. Getting distracted was much easier. Soccer was becoming more of a chore than a sport.

So when Clay pulled me aside the other day, and asked to meet for a private practice, I reluctantly agreed.

There had to be a catch to this, right? Clay and I have never gotten along. Captain of the team or not, Clay played favorites. Surprise surprise, I was not on the receiving end of that favoritism. There had to be something behind this. Clay was always one step ahead, after all.

I agreed to go, anyway. Why not? I had nothing left to lose. My dignity and confidence were crushed under the pressure of having to watch my every move; the pressure of having to be perfect to avoid a million lazar eyes on me.

Another surprise, no sooner did Wilbur and I finish our tense walk to the school, did Wilbur abandon me and walk home (fucking surprise. Brother of the year, am I right?). My eyes scanned the field for Clay, while also walking over to the bleachers to set my bag down and put my cleats on.

“Hey, don’t take too long. We need to get started,” He mumbled, finding his place in front of a goal.

“What’s the huge rush?” I quipped, hoping to play off the discomfort I could feel seeping its way into my shoulders. “We have literally all day. It’s not like I have anything better to do, and you don’t have any stupid 'Elites' parties this weekend.”

“Two hours, Tommy,” He corrected, looking me directly in the eyes.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “I should’ve known, you have better things to do than be here.”

“Yeah, I do. Just hurry up. I know you don’t want to be here any longer than I do.”

He dashed out onto the field, leaving me at the bleachers. 

I did what I could to tie the laces on my cleats as quickly as possible (tying shoelaces was pretty difficult with trembling hands, I had to be honest with myself). Once finishing that, I pulled my soccer ball out of my bag and jogged with it rolling at pace with me, onto the field.

"Alright Tommy," Clay started, sounding extremely disinterested, "I'll play as goalie and you can just try to get past me. I'll go easy, since it's our first lesson." 

He stood into place, widening his stance at the goal. 

I positioned himself into a place where I could see the entirety of the goal, along with Clay. I started watching for movement that would give me an open window, but quickly got stuck in my head. 

Clay’s eyes were directly on me. Watching me, judging me. I can’t deal with that, not anymore. It’s like a weight being pressed onto my chest, threatening me to take breath, only to restrict me.

Dramatically, it kind of feels like dying, if I’m honest.

Without even trying to guess my trajectory or my timing, I kicked the ball, praying I’d get lucky and it’d go through.

Surprise number three of the last half hour, I didn’t.

The ball flew right into Clay's hands, to which Clay scoffed and remarked, "What was that? Are you even taking this seriously?" 

“My bad, Clayton,” I sneered, shooting him a tired, hostile glare. “I forgot that you think your entire team is perfect, like you seem to think you are. Mistakes exist, believe it or fucking not.” 

"Whatever," the ball bounced down the distance between Clay and I as he threw it back to me. "We aren't moving on until you get at least three in a row. Also, don't EVER call me 'Clayton'."

I inwardly groaned. THREE shots? In a row? Being constantly watched like a hawk was going to make that impossible. I might as well give up right now.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” I grumbled, repositioning the ball under my feet. I tried, so, so desperately, to focus on something other than the eyes boring a hole into my skull. It wasn’t working. The grass wasn’t a good distraction. The poles in the goal would give away my positioning. I had no choice but to look directly at Clay.

Another unplanned shot was made. Another fail was made. Failure.

"Again!" Clay huffed, kicking the ball to me. 

This went on for at least a half hour. The crippling pressure of Clay watching my each and every move was too much for me. Not a single shot was made that was anywhere close. Each and every shot was predictable. 

“This is bullshit!” I screamed after my twentieth try, throwing the soccer ball across the field and storming off. “This was just your excuse to fucking mock me! I get it, you’re the captain. You’re the golden boy. You’re perfect. I get it!”

"Tommy! Your parents offered me money for this! Guess what!? I didn't take it! I actually wanted to HELP you!" he yelled to me. 

“I don’t care, Clay! Kick me from the team, tell them to move me back down to Junior Varsity, I don’t care! I can’t make shots when you’re watching me like I’m some fucking mistake on the field! I get that shit enough from Wilbur lately!”

He walked closer to me, explaining, "Tommy. I am not going to kick you from the team, as much as I dislike you. You actually have potential! Cut the crap Tommy, and try. It. Again. I don't give a flying fuck what's going on with you and Wilbur!"

“Were the last twenty shots not enough for you?” My voice shook slightly with emotion, forcing me to turn away from Clay to avoid any slip of weakness to be caught. “What fucking more do you all want from me?”

"I want you to TRY Tommy! That's all I want!" he screamed. "Now come on, and try it again."

“I am trying!” I screamed back. “I’m trying so fucking hard! But knowing you’re judging every single move I make, searching for my mistakes to tell me how shit I really am at this game, it stresses me out! I can’t make shots when I know all you’re doing is judging me on what I do wrong, instead of looking for what I do right!”

"That's the point Tommy! If I don't tell you your weaknesses and try to improve on them, you're not going to improve! Now as much I would love to talk, we have a lesson to get to!" Clay spat back. 

“Just go home, Clay,” I muttered, closing my soccer bag. “Give it up. Nothing is going to change. I’m just not as good as you all thought I was. Go spend the afternoon being important, instead of trying to train a lost cause that you don’t even care about.”

"Fine," Clay mumbled, "But I remember a particular someone who said 'I could do better than you at a 1v1 easily'! What happened to that Tommy? Because honestly, I miss that Tommy right now, as annoying as he was."

_ He had friends,  _ I almost said out loud. I caught himself right before, though, reminding myself that Clay fed off of any weaknesses on enemies he could get. “He got to high school, and realized things change,” I decided to say. “People change, people evolve. I had spirit when I got here. Pressure, anxiety, stress. It all hit me full force when I got here. Not that you’d understand. Everything was always handed to you.”

Clay's facial expression softened as he replied in a soft voice, "I… I was never handed anything, Tommy. It took so many years of hard work to be the person that I am now," he paused, collecting his thoughts as he tried again, "I think, Tommy, that you can be the next soccer captain after me. I really do. Even if I do hate your guts most of the time- I've learned to accept it. Now please, just stay for the rest of the lesson." 

My gaze shot up at the mention of team captain. “I… Really?” He asked with hesitance. “What about.. Like.. Someone who’s been here longer than me? You seriously expect Sophomore Tommy to take control of kids older than him? I can’t even work under pressure anymore. I can’t make a simple shot, because you’re watching my every move. That’s not a team captain.”

Clay crossed his arms, visibly becoming impatient with the conversation. He replied, "Tommy, I was not always like this. It took me a long time to get better, and grow as a person. You can do it too; you can overcome your fears. If anyone, I think you can do it." 

My gaze shifted to scan the field again. A ton of other sentences and questions were flooding my mind, while trying to fight with the one huge question for importance; ‘do I stay?’

Eventually, I sighed. It was strained and stressed, but it was a sigh.

“Fine.. I guess you’re wasting your afternoon training a lost cause,” I muttered, walking across the field again with my eyes set on the soccer ball. 

Clay found his place once again in front of the goal, getting into position. 

After achieving my ball, I returned to my spot on the field with a perfect vision and shot to the goal. “The same thing, I assume... Shoot until I actually do something right," I said to myself, making my first shot without a plan.

The ball hit the back of the net with a soft  _ swoosh.  _ Clay's smirk widened into a smile, retrieving the ball from the net. 

"I'm impressed," he threw the ball back to me, "just two more times."

I worked quickly in my mind to calculate what I did differently this time. When I concluded that I just didn’t think about anything, and made my shot based purely on knowledge I already had about Clay’s movements, I made my second and third shots the exact same way, making both of them with ease.

"See? I told you!" Clay yelled from the goal. "Now, I want to challenge you to a 1v1, to end the lesson." 

The boiling pit of anxiety returned. I’d be watched, constantly. I’d be under pressure.

“...Are.. You sure about that?”

"I'm almost certain," he replied with a smirk. 

Biting the inside of my cheek to distract my mind from doing anything that might give Clay any other impression that it made me anxious, I nodded, mumbling, “Okay, I guess..”

"Alright then," Clay hummed, kicking the ball into the middle of the field, motioning for me to get on the other side of the ball. "Best out of three." 

I took my position on the other side of the ball, avoiding eye contact. “Best out of three,” I muttered, mostly to myself. “Okay.”

"Three… two… one… go!" 

Almost immediately, I took off in a sprint and stole the ball from the center, heading directly for the net in front of me. I wouldn’t lose to Clay; I’d never hear the end of it from anyone, if I lost. 

Swiftly, Clay took the black and white soccer ball from my hold, sprinting down the field to the other side. My mind was racing as I looked for the best way to intercept him; unfortunately, Clay was a lot faster of a runner. He flawlessly punted it into the net, winning the very first round. 

He repositioned the ball once again in the center. After a '1, 2, 3, go!' from Clay, I managed to take the ball once again. As I had learned from the previous match, Clay was a lot faster than me. Instead of running all the way down the field to take the shot, I was going to risk it by kicking it around halfway in Clay's side of the field. In a quick fashion, I kicked the ball at a calculated trajectory once I noticed Clay getting super close to me. 

_ Swoosh!  _

The ball made it into the net with succession; Clay huffed while I held a small smile on my face. I wasn't so bad, after all. 

The last game was the most tense; After Clay counted off to start, my mind seemed to blank. The first steps I took were similar to ones of a newborn deer as I tried to take the ball first. With no success, Clay snagged the ball and continued to dart down the field, winning the last game. 

Upon seeing the final shot being made, and the score being set at its final imbalance, I growled under my breath at myself. “Fucking idiot..” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair in self-frustration. I was supposed to win this. Clay is never going to let me live this down.

Clay cheered, yelling, "YES! WOO!" from across the field. 

It was pretty debatable whether I was too hard on myself (especially recently) when it came to my soccer skills. One small mistake can cost the game, I knew that. One wrong move can give the advantage to the enemy. I knew that.

So why the fuck did I freeze at the beginning of the last game? What kind of fucking idiot freezes in a game?

“Good game, I guess,” I muttered. “You’re free to leave, now. I’ll be stuck here kicking goals until I don’t miss.” 

"You did pretty good Tommy, but obviously not as good as me; maybe one day though!" Clay exclaimed as he kicked the soccer ball back to me. 

My gaze just so happened to cast upwards to see a certain someone walking up to the field. Seriously? Clay didn’t want to be here, I knew that. He had better things to do, than train the freshman to catch him up with the rest of the team.

But he had to leave right away to go with George, of all people? What is it with George being the reason I can’t seem to have any friends?

“Well, you can leave,” I repeated, this time letting the hurt seep into my quieted tone. “Nothing is stopping you. Guess you’ll know at the next practice if I still suck. I’ll be stuck here until Wilbur decides he wants to show up."

"Okay," he turned his attention to the brunette jogging onto the field, "Hey George!" 

George smiled wide at the sight of Clay.

"Hey Clay! Are you almost done?" 

"Yes! Just meet me at my car, it's right out front," he smiled. 

"Alright!" George replied happily, walking towards Clay's red truck. 

I watched in gruesome silence as I was, once again, forgotten about in favor of George (fucking George…). I didn’t even bother trying to say anything to either of them; Clay and George seemed to be in their own little world. It wasn’t my world to shatter with his presence.

Right after George walked away, I went the other direction with my soccer ball, with intentions to shoot more goals. First, though, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Wilbur.

_ You _

_ 12:55 pm _

We finished. I’m ready to leave whenever you feel like coming to get me, I guess.

After staring at my screen for a solid two minutes, only to be left on delivered, I set his phone down in the grass, out of my way. If Wilbur was going to ignore me, then fine. I’d just shoot goals until someone remembered to come get me. Someone would remember I exist eventually.. Right?

Every now and then, I’d glance over at the bleachers, where Clay once stood. I bitterly took note of how there wasn’t even a goodbye. There wasn’t a ‘things will get easier’ or a ‘you held your own well!’ 

Of course not. I'm Tommy, and that was Clay. We’re complete opposites in the social stratosphere; Clay can’t be seen by his boy toy, talking to me.

During one of my glances to the bleachers, I took note of the water bottle that didn’t belong to me, sitting idle on the second step from the ground. If I was fast enough, I’d catch Clay to give it to him, right?

I picked up my phone and began running, grabbing the bottle as I passed. I went through the locker rooms, which was the quickest route to the outer parking lot.

When I got out the doors to the outer parking lot, I froze in his place. Muscle memory told me to pull out my phone and take a picture of the scene unfolding.

No. Fucking. Way. George and Clay were mid kiss. They were mid kiss, and I was the one to catch them, and get blackmail.

Finally, finally! I had a one up on both George and Clay.

Try to ruin my life more than you already have, Davidson. Your little secret won’t last forever. 

**George's POV**

Dream and I sat in the comfort of his car, talking about his session with Tommy. I asked, "Why did you even want to do it? I mean, don't you hate him or whatever?" 

He shrugged his shoulders, explaining, "I had to help him, or the whole team would suffer. He's actually a good player, he just gets skittish, I guess." 

Dream fiddled with the AC controls, turning them down so we weren't blasted with cold air. I scoffed, laughing lightly as I asked, "Tommy? Skittish? That doesn't make any sense. Tommy used to be so… confident when we were little. Nothing really scared him." 

"To be fair, you guys were like eight," I hummed in agreeance as he continued, "How do you even know Tommy and Wilbur anyway?" 

"Long story short, my mom took care of them for my dad's work friends and we just hit it off," I replied simply. 

He nodded, checking his phone notifications. 

"Why did you get so upset about Wilbur knowing about us earlier?" I blurted out. 

He stopped scrolling on his phone immediately, his gaze flickering to mine. 

"Because," he nervously admitted after putting his phone to sleep, "I… I'm scared to come out to people I don't really know. I kind of have this… reputation to uphold, and if I'm openly bisexual, I'm scared that's really going to mess up everything."

He was arguably the most popular guy in school, so it made sense; I just couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the same time as understanding. I wanted to show off Dream to everyone. I wanted to make people jealous for once, rather than being jealous of other people, as selfish as that sounds. 

"Oh," I said dejectedly, looking at a random tree through the windshield. 

"George, I'm sorry I can't do it yet. I will though, okay? I promise." 

I had no reason but to trust him. So with my full heart, I smiled and said, "Okay. I'll try my best to understand you, Dream." 

He smiled, pulling me in for a kiss. It was soft, yet pleasant. It communicated all of our unspoken feelings to each other swiftly and efficiently. 

All of a sudden, I backed away, feeling an odd sense of anxiety in my stomach. 

"Should we really be doing this here?" I asked. 

He shrugged, replying, "Probably not." 

"It feels like someone's watching us," I replied softly, looking around. 

"It's probably just nerves," Dream said optimistically. 

"Yeah, probably." 

_ I hope you're right. _


	17. 16|Ice Skates &Sandy Dates|

**George's POV**

The Florida sun was blistering after school on Wednesday, and unfortunately for Nick and I, the AC in our house broke. Nick opted to go somewhere with Karl, which left me at home all by myself. 

"It's so fucking hottt," I mumbled to myself, fanning off my face. 

My phone buzzed against the wooden table. I picked it up with alacrity, hoping someone would distract me from my possible heat stroke. 

**Dream 💚**

_ hey bb :) _

I sighed out of relief; I was hoping Dream would take me out of this literal hellhole. 

**Me**

_ dream it's so hotttt  _

**Dream 💚**

_ thats strange _

**Me**

_ How? It's Florida _

**Dream 💚**

_ cause im not there ;) _

**Me**

_ Whatever _

_ Shut up and get me out of here _

**Dream 💚**

_ If you insist darling _

_ be ready in 30 mins _

A small smile broke onto my face as I reread the word "darling" on my screen over and over again. 

I snapped out of my dazed state, realizing I was only given thirty minutes to get ready before Dream came to pick me up. I rummaged through the contents of my suitcase (which I still haven't unpacked; I didn't really care either), deciding whether I wanted to wear a specific top or not. Eventually, I decided on an outfit and made my way outside, which was arguably cooler than the inside of the home. 

I stood under the shade of part of the house, dying in the humidity and sweaty nature of the temperature. I could feel the sweat which beaded down the middle of my back and on my forehead; it was almost unbearable. 

My mind eventually wandered to other things, but without a fight from the thoughts about the temperature or weather. 

The familiar sight of Dream pulling into the driveway jolted me out of my thoughts. I quickly made my way to Dream, who opened my door from across the car. 

"Hop in!" He exclaimed, turning up the AC. 

"Took you long enough," I replied lightheartedly, closing the door and basking in the crisp air conditioning. 

"Kiss?" 

I happily complied, allowing him to pull me in by my chin and place an electrifying yet tender kiss on the corner of my lips. He quickly gave me another one directly in the middle, still holding my chin in his hand. 

"So, where are we going?" I asked, backing away from the dramatically romantic situation we were in. 

"You'll see." 

"As-per-usual. I don't even know why I ask at this point." 

It was true; most of the time when he asked me out to go somewhere, he would tell me "it's a surprise", or some other form of the phrase. It never did get old though, and I'm sure it never will. It genuinely pleased me to see him put in so much effort to find something that would engage or excite me.

He chuckled lightly, pulling his car into reverse out of the driveway. 

I looked to my side, admiring the warm expression on his face; I could tell he was looking forward to this as much as I was. He glanced over to me, returning his attention back to the road. 

"Pay attention Dream, I don't want us to crash!" I yelled. 

"You're staring at me…" 

"Does it bother you?" 

He grinned, "Of course not, I love it when you stare at me. I just get a bit distracted by the way you look at me." 

I smirked, wondering playfully, "Oh? And how's that?" 

"Like… like you just want to eat me up," he said nonchalantly. 

I crossed my arms, replying, "Shut up, you're so… annoying!" 

I felt a soft blush cross my cheeks when I looked away from him and towards the road. He patted my thigh, laughing lightly. 

"You love it."

**Nick's POV**

Both Karl and I couldn't pass up the chance to go to the beach for the rest of the day; it was nice out, plus Karl loved the beach. Anything he liked, I liked to do/go to with him. Seeing the pure, unadulterated joy that would overwhelm his features and tone of voice was, and is, one of the most adorable things I have ever seen. The way his voice would rise in pitch and his eyes would widen would only make me just as excited for whatever he was excited about; everything about him infatuated me. 

"Nick, can you get me a Monster?" He asked softly while we were stopped at a local gas station. 

"Sure angel," I smoothly replied, stepping out of the car and into the sweltering heat. 

Inside of the quaint and run-down gas station there were few customers, so I was able to navigate the narrow aisles easily to the back where the coolers sat. After I reached into one of the doors and grabbed Karl's Monster, I turned to see something on the aisle behind me that stood out to me. Most of that particular aisle was filled with different handmade knick-knacks, along with other beach-related items; in short, it was a tourist trap. Usually I stayed away from those sort of things since I was so used to it. 

The item in question was a simple black hemp necklace with a purple crystal in the middle. I immediately thought of Karl, forgetting to check the price tag as I carefully grabbed it. The look of anticipation and thankfulness on his face when he received it was worth all the money in the world to me. 

Quickly, I paid for the items and made my way back to the boy in the car. Before I got into the car, I said, "Close your eyes…" 

"Uhm… okay," he replied with uncertainty. 

I placed the black grocery bag onto his lap, which held his Monster and the black necklace box. I hopped into the car, closing the door after me as he opened his eyes. 

"Wow, you got me a Monster… wait, what's this?" 

He lifted up the black, unmarked box and looked up to me for some sort of confirmation to continue to open it. I nodded, answering, "It's a present, for you." 

As he opened the box, I explained, "I don't know why, but I thought of you when I saw it. Maybe it's because you look really good in purple…" 

He gasped at the sight of the necklace, lifting it up delicately while admiring the craftsmanship behind it. 

"Do you like it?" 

He clasped it in his hand, looking up to me with the widest smile I had ever seen on him. 

"I love it! Thank you Nick!" 

"Here, I'll put it on for you…" 

I took the ends, clasping it around the back of Karl's neck. He turned to face me, the same smile still resting comfortably on his face. 

"Purple really is your color," I added. 

He asked, "Do you really think so?" 

I nodded. 

"Well, everything looks good on you, but I think purple is my favorite." 

A dusting of light pink cast over his cheekbones as he replied softly, "Thank you…"

"Anytime." 

**Dream's POV**

As soon as I parked in front of the indoor ice-skating rink, I saw the look on his face turn from one of agony from the heat to a bright, cheerful one. 

Excited, he asked, "Do you know how to ice skate? I love to ice skate! I used to do it all the time in the UK!" 

"Yeah, some," I answered. "I used to play hockey when I was younger, on this rink. I pretty much played any sport I could; but I can't wait to see you on the ice." 

"Won't it get cold?" He wondered. 

I reached behind me, presenting him with a few of my hoodies. He lit up at the sight of my monochromatic light green hoodies. He snatched one from my hand, admiring it. 

"Can I keep it?" 

I laughed, unable to resist the childlike curiosity that was sprawled over George's face. 

"Of course. Now c'mon." 

We left the car with our items, finding our way inside to the ice skate rentals towards the front of the indoor rink. Both George and I equipped our skates swiftly, excited to get onto the ice. To be honest, I had not skated for a long time before that. It took me a few seconds to gain my balance before I pushed myself off into the middle of the rink. 

On the other hand, George took off with ease, gliding against the ice gracefully as he pulled himself into a simple twirl. I stopped to admire the smaller boy, and the millions of fireflies in his eyes that glowed just as bright as the smile that stretched across the lower half of his face. It was as if he was in his own bubble; a fantasy world where no problems could ever harm him. I was lovestruck just by watching his every move- how he glanced to me every so often between his motions, or how he bit his lip as he was focused on sliding across the ice with elegance.

With quick movements, he grabbed my hands, pulling me across the expanse of the freshly cleaned ice. No one else was on the rink; it was just me, and my boyfriend. 

The lights of the rink turned to a different color, illuminating everything in a soft purple. George turned around while in motion, skating backwards. He giggled, clasping our hands together in a tighter grip. I grinned, spinning us on the ice. We stopped in the middle, stuck in a trancelike state with the other. 

I could then feel the warmth of George's breath which contrasted the chill of the air of the rink. Subconsciously, I bent down so George and I were in a good position to kiss the other. Before I closed my eyes fully, I took one last glance in the honey-whiskey colored orbs in front of me. 

We shared one last intimate glance before locking our lips comfortably, like finding the right key to a lock. 

I felt my knees go weak, and my skates start to slip underneath me. 

I pulled away from George, falling back onto the ice. I accidentally pulled him down with me; the wind was knocked out of me as the brunette fell onto my stomach. 

"Ow!" I yelled, laughing. 

"Are you alright?" George asked promptly, getting back up. 

"Yes… just… let's not kiss on the ice again. Okay?" 

He laughed, helping me up off of the ice. 

"I think… yeah, I don't think that was a good idea. Especially since I know you go weak for me…" 

I felt my cheeks heat up at George's unexpectedly flirtatious remark. I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck as I looked away. 

He took my hand, changing the topic, "Let's get something to drink! I'm a little thirsty." 

"A… alright." 

**Karl's POV**

I looked over the purple stone around my neck, fidgeting with it. Nick had a permanent smile on his face ever since he gave it to me; it was very thoughtful of him. Just to see how happy he was when he gave it to me gave me so much more love for Nick, if that was truly possible. 

"Where are we going?" I asked. "Didn't we just pass the beach entrance?" 

It was true; we had just passed by the entrance to the beach we normally went to, but Nick didn't seem phased by it. He simply replied, "I know." 

"...Are you kidnapping me?"

"No, shut up!" He laughed lightheartedly, turning onto a road I don't have any recollection of. 

Even though it was Nick, and I trusted him with all of my being, I still felt a little anxious. 

Soon enough, we turned onto one last road, which was unpaved. The car jumbled over the gravel rocks as we pulled off onto the side of the road. Hidden in the trees was a path, guarded by shrubbery and local flora.

"Where are we?" 

"You'll see. Come on," he answered. 

I complied, following directly next to him. He enveloped my hand into his casually, dragging me along the path. 

"Wait… Nick where are we… going!?" I asked as I was being dragged through a patch of shrubbery. 

"Look." 

I was breathless; the view was stunning. It was a small lagoon that sat between two mountainous rocks- the crystalline water was a beautiful cerulean blue. It looked preserved and hidden away; the scene was similar to one you would see in only pictures. No one else was around; it was just Nick and I. 

"How… how did you find this?" 

I dipped my hand into the warm water, watching a few fish scatter at the sight of my fingers. Nick chuckled lightly, recalling, "I just found it when I was walking around… I immediately thought of you when I saw it." 

"A lot of things seem to remind you of me," I teased lightly. 

"You're so annoying." 

"We are poppin' off, we are poppin' off!" I sang, cackling while taking off my shirt and shoes. 

He did the same, throwing his shirt off to the side next to his bottle of Coke. 

"Last one in is dog water!" He yelled, dipping down into the clear blue water. 

I followed in directly behind him, arguing, "That's not fair!" 

He laughed, splashing me with water in response. While I was still processing what he did, he dove under me and pulled me above the water. I screeched, not knowing what Nick was gonna do. 

"Nick! Sto-"

He threw me into the water, cutting off my playful cry for help. The saltwater burned my eyes so I promptly closed them, but I felt Nick pull me closer to him underwater. My hands searched the upper half of his torso until they eventually laid stiff on his waist. His hands trailed down the sides of my face and to the bottom of my jaw before finally pulling me in for a soft kiss. A small smirk formed on the surface of his mouth, breaking us apart and letting the water flow between the space once occupied.

The need for air was becoming somewhat unbearable, adding to the burning sensation in my chest. I pulled us both up above the surface of the water. I opened my eyes, laughing awkwardly at the position both Nick and I were in- his arms were tightly wrapped around my waist, pulling me up so we were flush against the other. My arms were loosely placed around both sides of his neck, my hands meeting together directly behind it. 

He leaned in, whispering "You look… so pretty." 

My breathing hitched as my heart started to throb; my whole world became dizzy as we leaned in once again. This time, with more passion and depth. 

He pulled away, beaming down at me. The corners of my lips pulled into a dopey smile. 

"Yeah?" 

He nodded, his smile turning into a devilish one. The instant regret of joining him in the water flashed before my eyes when he dunked me into the water once again, running up to our things. 

I gasped for air, running right behind him to the things. 

"Nick don't steal my Monster!" I yelled as he held it in his hands, looking back to me with a sly grin. 

He laughed, holding it above my head as I grabbed for it to no avail. 

"Nick! You're freer than a Costco sample, you're absolute dog water- give me it!" I pleaded, Nick laughing. 

He took mercy on me, lowering the height he had on me and giving me the Monster. I took it with a huff, pretending to be upset with him; in reality, I could never be mad at someone like him. He was such a sweetheart, even if he portrayed himself otherwise. Honestly, I found it endearing. 

"You're so mean!" I snapped back playfully, sitting down on the sand. 

"Awww…" he sat behind me, pulling me into his chest while wrapping a towel around us. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled. 

"God you're such a simp," I joked. 

He sighed as he placed his chin on my shoulder, humming a soft song. 

The sun set behind us, but the view of the lagoon was still as breathtaking as it was the first time we got there not too long before. The birds chatter died down along with the intensity of the heat, allowing room for the night bugs to play their mellow songs. 

To be in Nick's arms as the moon was rising and the sun was setting was one of the best feelings in the world. 

_ I wish every night could be like this one Nick. Just you. Me. The stars.  _

_ The world couldn't see us from here; we would be all alone. To ourselves.  _

_ I love you.  _

**George's POV**

I pulled Dream along with me to the edge of the ice rink where they had a drinks stand. The bitterness of the chilly air put me in the mood to drink hot chocolate, and it helped me forget about the impending doom of the air-conditionless home I'd eventually have to go back to. 

Dream trailed behind me, his eyes wandering to the crowds of people that decided to pop into the ice rink. I unlatched our hands, hoping to give him some relief. Dream was very serious about keeping our relationship on the down-low, and I complied with some hesitation. 

"Just sit down George, I'll get us something. My treat," he insisted. 

"Are you sure? I really don't want you-" 

He interrupted me, answering with a whisper, "It's okay baby, I'll be right back." 

"Okay…" 

I smiled lightly at the pet name, finding an empty table for us to sit at in the back. 

I watched as Dream ordered and stood complacently, waiting for the food. The natural charisma he possessed was shown through the way he gathered the drinks- with a confident smirk and a warm "thank you". I sighed, resting my chin on top of my hand. 

He sauntered over to the table, setting down a paper cup with a black lid in front of me. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"Try it!" He exclaimed, taking a sip of his own drink. 

I took the cup and lifted it up to my lips, slowly taking a small sip so as to not burn myself on the steaming hot liquid. The decadence of the chocolate and the slight spice from the cinnamon and nutmeg paired nicely with the sweetness of the whipped cream and marshmallows that inhabited the warm drink. I smiled in response, saying, "It's so good! Thank you Dream!" 

He laughed lightly, replying "Anything for you; I like to see you smile like that by the way, it's… it's gorgeous." 

Dream was always so willing to share his emotions and thoughts, it often made me feel flustered under the weight of his words, and how effortlessly he conveyed them. 

"Uhm… shut up," I lightheartedly replied, covering my face with my hand. 

He pulled my hand down, taking it into his own hand. 

"Don't cover your face, I love it." 

"You're… stop…" I spit out, stuttering along the words. 

_ My chest feels like it might implode…  _

He laughed, enjoying the sight of me being flustered beyond words. 

We were stuck in a lovers daydream, which held a comfortable silence. He played with my fingers, going over every crevice and dip in my hand. 

"You're hands… they're really warm," I blurted out absentmindedly. 

"Yeah?" He stopped fidgeting with my hand to pull it into both of his hands. 

"You're hands are so small. So cute," he complimented in a lower tone. 

I smiled, meeting eye contact with Dream. 

Our moment was cut short by a text from Nick. 

**Nick**

_ You have to come home. Dad said so _

I rolled my eyes, snapping away from Dream's hand to reply: 

**Me**

_ Arent you with Karl _

_ Why cant you go back _

**Nick**

_ Im coming too. Its a work dinner _

_ We both have to go _

I sighed, messaging:

**Me**

_ Fine. Dream is taking me back ig _

**Nick**

_ oooooo  _

**Me**

_ I dont wanna hear it from you _

_ Actually shut up _

_ Ill be there soon _

I slipped my phone into the comfort of Dream's hoodie, informing him, "You have to take me back." 

"Aww, really?" He whined, crossing his arms. 

"Yes, really," I laughed, gathering my rental skates that sat next to me. 

"Fine…" 

We both left the ice skating rink, taken back into the real world once more. The temperature had cooled some, more bearable ever since the sun was setting. Back into the car, I admitted, "I had a lot of fun Dream… we should do this again." 

"Yes… you should teach me how to ice skate better." 

I laughed, teasing, "Wow, something I'm better at than the great and mighty Dream!" 

"To be fair, I haven't ice skated since I was younger." 

"Excuses, Dream," I laughed, watching him roll his eyes with a light smirk on his face. 

He turned on the music as we went back to Nick's house, leaving us to just enjoy the music and the presence of the other. I, for one, had a good time- Dream seemed to feel the same way. He bit his lip ever so slightly as he concentrated on the road in front of us. 

I imagined the day when we would both graduate; I envisioned that as soon as we both got our diplomas, we would give everyone the middle finger as we rode off into an unknown direction in the very truck we sat in at that moment. 

I didn't care if that went against my foreign exchange program; I only cared about the tall blond I called my boyfriend, and where we would go together. 

_ I can't wait to go on more adventures with you, Clay.  _

_ I want to see the world, with you by my side.  _


	18. 17|Kept In Secret|

**Tommy's POV**

After hours upon hours of kicking soccer balls into the net post practice, Wilbur finally decided to show up and take me home. I spent the rest of my night trying to solve the anxiety issue. Research upon research, articles upon articles. 

They all told me to get therapy. Fuck that, I’ll stay anxious, thank you very much.

The only bad thing about the anxiety, was that Clay now knows about it. Clay knows it’s messing with me, and I hate that. Clay knows I am struggling, and can use that against me if I fuck up.

Thankfully, I had my own blackmail to use if Clay fucks up, too. 

First thing the next morning, I bolted from walking with Wilbur to show up at Dave’s locker. I anxiously paced back and forth until my partner showed.

“Tommy? What the hell are you doing?” Dave asked, approaching his locker. 

“Techno! Finally, you take so damn long to get here! Welcome back from exile, my friend. I have shit to show you.”

“Um… Okay? What is it then?”

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my camera roll until I found the picture. The picture of George and Clay kissing. “Here. Take in the beauty of our victory.”

Dave took my phone and observed the picture. The small smirk I saw growing faded, when the look of realization hit Dave’s eyes.

“This again? Tommy, I learned from the party. I’m over trying to fight with him. Clay wants to turn the new kid into a toy to play with? Fine by me. Waste of my time, and my reputation.” Handing me my phone back, he continued, “Whatever you plan to do, whatever ideas you have brewing, leave me out of them. I want nothing to do with it.”

“...What?” I asked in disbelief. “Just last week, you wanted him dead! You nearly killed him! Why, when we finally have one up on him, do you want to back out?”

“I just told you, Tommy. I’m done trying to get rid of him. He isn’t leaving anytime soon, clearly. I’m over it. I nearly lost my good reputation once, I refuse to try and do it again. I’m out.”

With his word being the final word, Dave walked away, leaving me standing at his locker, my face frozen in shock.

What.. Just happened?

I ran through everyone I talked to in my head. Phil would disagree because Dave disagreed, Wilbur hates my guts and won’t speak to me, Toby will hate me if I get him involved. 

True isolation started to sink in, leaving that sickening emptiness in the pit of my stomach again. There were a hundred students in that hallway, and I felt like I was the only one. 

They all left me. For something better.

My gaze shot down to my phone screen again, still displaying the photo of George and Clay. Studying the image again, I made a decision, and a silent vow to myself.

_ You’re on your own, Tommy. This is all in your hands now; the ball is in your court. After this, nobody will ever ignore or abandon you again. Clay’s reputation will fall, and it’ll be all thanks to you. They’ll have to adore you. They'll finally notice you. Your feelings will finally be heard. _

“This is war, George Davidson.”

**George's POV**

The week had been decent; up until Friday. Friday, I had a big test. Friday, Dream had been brushing me off even more than usual. Friday, Techno came back to school. 

_ Techno came back.  _

My nerves were at their highest point ever since I came back to school. Nonetheless, I was still determined to go to school because of the chess club meeting afterwards. I couldn't avoid seeing Techno forever; it was bound to happen eventually, no matter how much time I spent wishing it wouldn't happen. 

Dream was a different person inside of his car; he looked at me with a drawing passion and a million stars in his eyes. Once we stepped out of the bubble and into the real world, our relationship reverted back to when we first met; awkward, shy, and no physical contact of any sort. The stars that once inhabited the pupils of his eyes faded like the sunrise, and they were left bright but without any meaning. 

It was odd to see Dream so scared, so broken. He was always the one to brave head first into any social situation with no anxiety whatsoever. He held his head high; until it came to me. 

I was causing him pain and discomfort.  _ Me.  _

I shivered at the thought. 

Dream diverged from me as soon as we stepped into the building without any sort of parting words. I took a deep breath in and out, continuing to my locker. To my far right, I noticed Techno at his own locker; he was talking to Tommy, and they didn't seem to be having a pleasant conversation based on the annoyed look in Techno's gaze. 

_ Great Tommy,  _ I thought to myself.  _ Way to annoy the guy with anger issues.  _

I smiled at my own joke in my head, slamming my locker behind me as I walked to my first class. 

\---

Dream met me at my locker towards the end of the day when most of the people left school. Now, the only kids occupying the halls would be the chess club participants. 

"I was wondering if you wanted to kick Techno out of the chess club," Dream blurted out of nowhere. 

I stopped putting my textbooks in my bag for a split second as I registered what he said in my mind. I asked, "We can do that?" 

Steadily, I placed the last of my papers into my backpack, zipping it up. He nodded, standing back as I closed my locker. He continued, "We are the president AND the vice president, why couldn't we?" 

I shrugged, walking beside him, matching his pace down the hall. 

"If you think it's for the best Dream," I sighed. 

"Well, why wouldn't it be? I saw how scared you were earlier, George," he hesitated before he continued. "I think it would be best if we distanced you from him. Plus, we can risk losing a player." 

"What would Bad think about it?" 

"I… I talked to him about it already. He said he was fine with it," Dream answered. 

"Okay. If you guys think it's best, then I think we should do it," I stated simply. 

Dream held open the door for me, allowing me to enter. Surprising. I thought that would've been too revealing for him. 

All of the attendees were there, except for Techno. Both Dream and I sat apart from each other on opposite sides of the table. Toby asked, "When are we starting?" 

Dream shrugged, replying, "I don't know, whenever Techno gets here." 

"Oh," Toby mumbled. "Alright." 

He returned to his phone, texting someone. Everyone returned to their own conversations, but most of the noise was filled with Bad and Zak's lighthearted bickering; God, they are so much like a married couple. 

Vincent was enveloped in a different French book, scanning the pages quickly with his eyes. 

Fundy sat on his computer tapping away at the keys on the backlit keyboard. 

So that left Clay and I, sat across from each other. I smiled slightly at him, hoping he would return it. And return it he did, but without much enthusiasm. Even around all of our friends, he was anxious about our relationship. 

My smile dropped for two reasons, one being the sudden realization that Dream would probably never come out, and two being that a tall, pink-haired man entered the library with a smirk adorning the corners of his lips. 

Dream stood up as Techno greeted everyone, "Hello, I hope you guys didn't miss me too much!"

The club fell silent at his oddly warm greeting; I looked up to Dream as he said, "Techno…" 

"Yes?" 

Dream glanced at me quickly before he announced, "We… we decided… George and I decided that it would be best if you were to leave the club." 

Techno's shoulders fell along with the smirk. Out of disbelief, he asked, "What?"

Dream repeated himself, more confident in his words as he stated, "Techno, you're getting kicked out from the club."

Techno scoffed, a small smile ghosting the corners of his lips. 

"I… I can't believe this!" He laughed, continuing, "I am one of your best chess players! If you cut me from the team, you cut your chances of winning!" 

I looked down to my hands, playing with my fingers. Everyone else stopped whatever they were doing to watch Techno and Dream. 

"So be it," Dream said, crossing his arms. "After what happened between you and George, we don't think it would be a good idea for you guys to work together." 

Techno shook his head, mumbling, "Fine. You know what? Fine," he huffed, sarcastically adding, "I COMPLETELY understand!"

He turned dramatically, heading towards the door of the library and to the hallway. 

Both Dream and I looked at each other, exchanging the same sort of glance; maybe we shouldn't have done that. Maybe it was a bad idea to anger him again. 

Only time will tell, I assumed. 

**Tommy's POV**

When I returned home from school that day, I was expecting to do my homework, shoot some goals for fun, and do something to pass some time.

I wasn’t expecting Dave to call me.

Dave never calls me (nobody calls you, Tommy. You don’t have friends). I had to assume it wasn’t about my Geometry or Biology homework, considering Dave is long out of those classes. So I struggled to figure out what I was being called for. 

Despite the lack of information, I answered anyway.

“Hello?” I asked quietly (that’s been pretty normal lately. My loudness was long gone, succumbed to the heartache of being abandoned). “Dave?”

“Tommy, I’m going to fucking hit someone,” Dave growled in return, making me jump a bit. I wasn’t expecting the anger.

“Are you okay?”

“That British bastard just kicked me out of the Chess Club! He and his soccer bitch kicked me out of my own club!”

“No way.. Really? I’m sorry, Dave… I know what it’s like to watch George destroy-”

“I want to take you up on that blackmail,” Dave growled through the phone again. “I want to drag that douchebag down and bury him underground.”

“But didn’t you say-”

“I don’t care anymore, Thomas. I want to destroy that fucker.”

I couldn’t hide my mischievous smile. Finally!

“What’s the plan?”


	19. 18|This Won't Work|

**Clay's POV**

Sunlight poked through my blinds, resting on my pillow. A general sense of calmness laid within the humid, Florida air. It was peaceful; until I started getting calls on top of calls. I groaned, slapping my phone and grabbing it with aggravated force. 

My vision blurred as I tried to read the screen; I rubbed my eyes, rereading the texts over and over again until it finally started to register. 

As soon as I tapped on one of the messages, I could feel my heart drop to my stomach and stop beating altogether. It was a picture of George and I. 

_ Kissing.  _

My eyes froze on the screen as I scanned the picture. There was no way to convince people that it was different people in the photo; it was definitely George and I, and to top it all off, we were in MY truck. 

I quickly exited out of the message, my finger hovering over George's name in my contact list. I let out a sigh of frustration, throwing my phone into the sheets next to me. Slowly, I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. 

_ It couldn't be real, it couldn't be real…  _

I was scared of what people would say about me- especially George. George is a very socially anxious person; to see people he didn't know talking about him always made him on edge and jumpy. To see George like that was similar to torture. I didn't want to be the root of his problems. All I wanted was to see him happy. 

Perhaps the only way I could prevent this is by breaking us apart. 

If people saw that we split up, they would believe that nothing really happened between us; they would find something else to gossip about. Plus, I couldn't disappoint George. I couldn't continue to make him live in the shadows. He deserves someone who would be proud to show him off, who would be proud to hold his hand in public. 

Who would be proud to be his boyfriend. 

I was also petrified to show my true colors to the people at school. I was extremely popular; to be popular and to have some sort of exploitable "weakness" would definitely ruin any sort of status I had. 

My mom called me out of my thoughts, yelling upstairs, "Clay! Someone is here for you!" 

I groaned, wiping away the stray tear sat on my cheek. 

I took my pleasant time walking down the stairs, delaying the inevitable of greeting the person at the door. As I turned the corner, I saw a brunette with tear-stained hoodie sleeves and glassy eyes- George. 

"Dre- Dream…" he hiccuped, colliding into me, his arms wrapping around me. 

"George…" I muttered, feeling more tears escape my eyes. 

I returned the tight hug hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't make my next decision even harder. 

"I-I'm sorry I… I didn't want people to know… I… I…-" 

"George, George… it's not your fault… it's not," I reassured, hugging him tighter. 

He looked up to me. The shattered gaze and crystalline tear trails that forged a path down his cheeks wrecked my heart. He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

"Clay…" he trailed off, looking away from me. 

"W-what…?" 

He hesitated, letting out a nasty sob into the ends of his sleeves. 

"I… I think that we should… I think that we should break… up…" I stuttered, inhaling sharply as I wiped away excess tears. 

He managed to reply, "I… if… I think… that's for the best…" 

"For the best." 

We backed further away from each other, recognizing the close distance we were standing. 

"I didn't want to hide anymore," he admitted. 

"And I didn't want to disappoint you."

We stood in a sharp silence. 

"I… I think I should… go," he awkwardly stated, turning for the door. 

"Yeah… yeah… um, I'll see you soon." 

"Yeah." 

I ran my fingers through my hair as I gently closed the door after him. My mom was nowhere to be seen so I crashed against the back of the door, sliding down it and landing in a puddle. 

I replayed the frayed, distraught expression that tormented George's face in my mind. 

_ What have I done? _

**George's POV**

I felt undeniably guilty as I saw the disdain in Clay's eyes when I turned away from the door. It stung worse than when Phil had kicked me in the ribs- but wasn't it supposed to feel better? To finally feel like I've prevented something bad from happening to Dream's social life? 

I didn't want to hide us anymore either. I was finally free from the constraints of a secret relationship. 

So why did it feel worse than my near-death experience? 

Maybe it was because eventually everything felt numb within a minute of my beatdown. 

Maybe it was because I could still feel the same level of heartache and stinging pain thirty minutes later. 

Nick sat in the car, fiddling with his phone. When he saw me, his eyes hardened. 

"Did it go well?" He asked. 

He knew the answer because it was written all over my face in black and white font. 

I quietly closed the door, buckling the buckle to my seatbelt. 

"No," I admitted anyway, looking down to my hands. 

My cuticles were red and raw from me constantly picking at them. I internally noted I needed to stop the habit before Nick, in a raised voice, asked, "What?" 

I flinched at the aggressiveness in his voice. I kept my eyes on the floor of the car, remembering every detail in the weather-proof covering. 

"We… we broke up," I simply stated. 

"I'm going to MURDER him!" 

As he opened the car door, I pulled him back, exclaiming, "No, no I wanted to break up Nick… I… yeah." 

His face softened as he pulled his car door closed. He lifted up his hands in confusion, asking, "Why?" 

"I was… tired Nick- of trying to… hide us. I really like him Nick… I do but he… I can't cause this much… pain for him. I ruined everything for him," I rambled, breaking into another sob. 

His expression didn't change, but I knew he was thinking about something. 

"Please don't be mad at him… please," I begged. 

The last thing I wanted to do was split Dream and Nick; they were best friends. I would feel overwhelmingly guilty if that would be the case. To see them separated all over me would be the worst sight imaginable.

"I'm not mad at him," he grumbled while turning out of the driveway. 

"Oh?" 

He nodded, continuing to drive down the neighborhood streets. 

**Nick's POV**

George and I made it back to my house. We both didn't speak to each other as we made it back to my room. 

He crashed into his bed, face first into the pillow. 

Even before the party, he never looked so emotionally pained; afterwards as well. 

I wanted to kill whoever decided to break my two best friends apart by releasing that picture. I would not hesitate to make their life a living hell.

But first, I had to do some investigating- I was going to find whoever this was and bring them down. 

No longer would they mess with my best friends if I had anything to do with it. 


	20. 19|Investigator Nick, At Your Service|

**Nick's POV**

It was noon on Sunday; the day after my two best friends broke up. On that day, I was determined to find the incompetent moron who leaked the photo of them kissing and put him into a shallow grave. 

Well, I had a plan that would make them want to be in a shallow grave. 

It wasn't complex; I was just going to ruin their life. Plain and simple. 

The night before, I remembered hearing George's soft sobs into his pillow. It made me even more determined to find whoever it was. 

Nonetheless, I sat with a notebook in hand at my desk, trying to write a list of people who would want to sabotage Dream and George's relationship. 

Techno sat at the very top of the list, but I wasn't completely sure about him. He wasn't stupid; why would he risk his future even more by messing with George again? 

Second on the list was Phil. I only put Phil on the list because of his closeness to Techno. If George was the reason that Techno got screwed over, then maybe Phil would want to mess with George. 

But then again, Phil did get into trouble for beating up George. 

That was where I was stuck; I couldn't really think of anyone else who would go the extra mile to hurt the two. 

That was, until I looked at the picture once again. Something stuck out to me in the picture, and that was the highschool was visible in the background. I could recognize the reddish brown bricks from anywhere, along with the mascot mural on the side. 

Secondly, they were kissing. They had only really been together for a week since Saturday. If they were keeping the relationship a secret, they wouldn't be stupid enough to kiss in the parking lot. It had to be after something where they would be one of the very few people in school. 

That's when it all fell into place. 

"Where are you going?" George called after me as I grabbed my car keys. 

"Don't worry about it… just relax alright?" 

On my way out of the door, I texted my third, and last, suspect; Tommy. 

**You**

_ where are u _

**Tommy**

_ Why do you want to know? _

**You**

_ Just tell me _

**Tommy**

_ If you insist, I'm at the farthest goal  _

_ post on the practice field _

**You**

_ We need to talk. _

I threw my phone into the seat next to me and drove to the high school. 

It all made sense; Dream had to give a private lesson to Tommy on Sunday, AKA one of Dream's biggest competitors. If Tommy was able to get some sort of leverage on Dream to ruin him, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. Plus, I distinctly remember dropping George off at the high school before going to Karl's house. 

"You're gonna regret ever existing, Tommy." 

Tommy's POV

The moment I got a text from Nick, telling me that we needed to talk, anxiety broke through the floodgates, overflowing my mind into an incoherent mess.

He knew.

Nick knew, and Nick was coming to do what everyone else seems to enjoy doing anymore. Target me.

I couldn’t help but ruthlessly ask myself out loud, “Is today my death day?” The question rang in my head like a broken record as I took my soccer ball to the bleachers, packing it away and opting for sitting at the bleachers without a word. 

My wait for Nick begins.

As the wait went from seconds, to minutes, I kept thinking about what was going to happen. I wasn’t stupid; Nick was pretty strong. Sure, I was taller, but Nick was stronger. He also had the Elites reputation on his shoulders; something I never had. 

If Nick truly wanted to, he could probably murder me, hide my body behind the school, and nobody would say a word.

“Then again,” I asked himself with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Nobody would really notice, now would they?”

My thinking session was cut short when I noticed the vehicle pulling into a parking spot near the practice fields. I’d recognise that vehicle anywhere. Nick was here. 

He jogged down the field, not hesitating as he yelled in a sharp voice, "Tommy! We need to talk." 

In a desperate attempt to keep myself distracted, I jumped back to my feet and grabbed my ball. For as long as I could, I wanted to avoid this conversation, and I also wanted to burn away the pit of anxiety in my stomach over this conversation. So, I made the choice to get back on the field and shoot more goals. 

I refused to watch as Nick stormed over to me, although I could hear the angry, heavy footsteps through the ground. Nick. Was. Pissed.

"Do you mind explaining to me why you released that picture?" He hissed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled, praying my attempt of playing dumb would work in my favor. Honestly, I didn’t release it myself. But, I sent it to Techno, who sent it out to the entire school. I'm not completely to blame... Right?

"Don't 'play dumb' with me Tommy," he crossed his arms, "I know you took the picture. And you know EXACTLY what picture I'm talking about." 

His words were sharp like the blade on a knife; angering Nick was one of the last things you would want to do. He was known for being hot-headed and easily aggravated. 

“...Why does it matter to you, anyway? The damage is done, nothing is going to change about it anymore. It’s happened, it’s over, Nick. Leave me alone.”

"... so you admit you took the picture?" His words became softer, but still had some sort of aggressive force behind it. 

“Yes, I took it. There, happy? I took it, to finally get back at George for ruining my entire life. He showed up, and everything went to shit. Like he’d know what it’s like to not have friends, considering he has friends, but still. I wanted revenge.”

"Tommy…" he started, but lost his train of thought. He then slowly tested his words, explaining, "George… you can't just assume what George's life was like… I-I can't believe you!" He yelled, the livid nature coming back. 

I could feel my hands starting to shake; I could feel my throat closing with raw emotion. For way too long, I had been holding back how I felt in favor of everyone else. I let it slip once with Clay, and was able to cover my tracks with this picture.

I can’t cover it anymore. I can’t corral the emotion anymore.

“I have feelings too, Nick!” I screamed, turning to face Nick for the very first time. “I have feelings too, believe it or not! Ever since George showed up, everything in this fucking school has been about him! He took my brother from me! He ruined my reputation, he ruined everything! Everything is always about fucking George Davidson! People seem to be forgetting that I have feelings, too! I was the most affected by him coming back, and nobody seems to care! God for-fucking-bid anyone cares about Tommy, right?!” 

"Tommy… you're such a fucking idiot…" he laughed lightly, pocketing his phone. "George told me about you, and how you treated him at the party. He was genuinely upset that you brushed him off like that! For once, maybe you should start remembering that other people have feelings too, not just yourself. Everything is always about Tommy, right? Oh Tommy this, Tommy that- just snap out of it! Not everything is about you! Not everyone is out to hurt you! Open your eyes!" 

“You didn’t watch your own brother ditch you for someone who hurt him, did you? You didn’t watch as he forgave the same person who decided he wasn’t worth the time of day. You didn’t watch as he started to hate you, which in turn made everyone else hate you. You don’t fucking get it, Nick. Of course you wouldn’t, you worship Clay too much to see anything wrong with this. Clay and George walk on water around here. Nothing they ever do is wrong. They’re so.. _ Fucking  _ perfect..” 

"Perfect… right," Nick mumbled. "That's why they aren't together anymore! Since everyone admires them they would just break up like that, right? You know, because since they're so perfect, that means that everyone would love them no matter what. Hate to break it to you, but no one is perfect, Tommy. Stop… stop this obsession with George and Dream. Stop trying to ruin their lives!" 

“You just don’t get it! Nobody gets it!” My tone grew desperate. Desperate to be heard, desperate to be understood. I was doing what I needed to do to be heard. I'm not the bad guy... I can’t be the bad guy. 

"You know what Tommy, I'm not here to be your therapist. Truthfully, I don't care about whatever you're feeling, because you fucked up big time by messing with what Dream and George had. If you ever bother them again, maybe I won't be so kind next time I would visit you. Just keep that in mind." 

And with that, he stormed off to his car. 

Even after the screaming match, and my reaching out yet again for someone to see me (only to be turned away and told my feelings don’t matter), I was left with an anxious ball of fear in my stomach. Only this time, I was left on my own to be my own personal outlet.

My own personal outlet, in the form of sobbing on the field. All alone.

There was no one left to go to; I really fucked up this time. 


	21. 20|Awkward|

**George's POV**

I sat in my AP Physics class; the first period of the day and arguably the worst. Techno sat to my left (the teacher didn't think it was necessary to move our seats), taking vigorous notes of the different formulas and scientific gunk that littered the whiteboard at the front of the room. 

I couldn't concentrate on anything; each new passing minute came with a new, heightened level of pure, blood-curdling anxiety that I could not seem to shake. Newton's laws of motion weren't even remotely interesting enough to distract me from my inner turmoil. 

Walking into school was probably the worst I had ever felt in a social situation. Everyone's eyes followed me and everything I did. Whenever I entered a room, everyone seemed to quiet down and glare at me- along with snickers and occasional whispers. 

The air was too thick to breathe. Even while I was sitting in class, I could feel everyone's eyes on me, judging me. The way they saw every move I made; did I fidget too much? Did I dress odd today? 

So many questions were floating through my head, and none of them pertained to anything relevant to the class. So when the teacher asked me a question, I blanked. 

"Mr. Davidson, are you paying attention?" She called from the front of the class. 

"H-huh?" 

"Do you want to be kicked out of this class?" She asked simply. 

"Uh… no I-I-" 

"Then pay attention!" 

I nodded, sinking into my seat. I wasn't exaggerating this time when I said that everyone's eyes were on me, because quite literally they were. I fidgeted with my hands, finding refuge in my incessant habit of picking at my cuticles. 

When the bell rang, there was no uncertainty in my actions as I dashed out of the class and to my locker, which was the only place I felt somewhat safe. 

The faces that passed me in the halls were ones of wonder and some of disgust as they looked down on me. My lungs threatened to collapse under the weight of everyone's gaze. My hands trembled as I had a hard time returning my textbooks to my locker. 

"Did you hear about Dream and that George kid?" 

"No, what happened?"

"Well, someone told me that the fag, George… he forced himself onto that elite. Don't tell anyone I told you though." 

I slammed my locker, dead set on finding the exit to the high school. 

I heard the way they laughed, the way they said my name with such harrowing disgust; I couldn't deal with it anymore. 

_ I had to get out, i had to get out- _

\---

**Nick's POV**

For once, the lunch table was quiet. I watched every person who walked through the door late; none of them were George. 

Dream looked the most worried out of all of us; he refused to eat, or to even speak. Most of his responses were in grunts or nods. Karl sat next to me; often, he tried to lighten the mood, but to no avail. 

I found myself rewatching the video I had of Tommy's confession. It was perfect blackmail, but I had no clue if I wanted to release it. As much as I disliked what Tommy did, was I willing to sacrifice his whole high school career? He was only a freshman. 

Suddenly, I received a text from George himself:

**George**

_ I went home early. don't wait for me _

**Me**

_ Why?? _

Seen.

Honestly, I don't know why I bothered asking. I already knew the answer and that was he left because of his anxiety, but he couldn't blame me for trying at the very least. 

I couldn't stand to see my best friends in the condition they were in; Dream miserably sat playing with the equally depressing food on his tray, while George was MIA from school. He never wanted to miss school, mostly because he wanted to stay on top of his grades. 

I had to take revenge for them if they wouldn't do it themselves. They deserved some sort of retribution. 

So that's why I found myself drawn to the video one last time before I released it onto every social media platform I owned. Right there, in the middle of lunch. 

I heard dings from my friends phones, along with some others. 

I could tell the video went out because when I looked up, I saw a large amount of people hold their phone up to their ear to hear the video and what Tommy said. 

I could also see the switch in the atmosphere in the room. 

When I looked at Tommy who sat from across the cafeteria, his mouth was parted open in a form of shock. 

I smiled when his eyes met mine; it didn't take a rocket scientist to see the look of pure terror written across his face. 

And with that, he promptly gathered his stuff, finding his way out of the cafeteria while people glared at him on his way out. I let out a small chuckle, entertained by the way Tommy made his exit in such a hurry. 

_ Perfect.  _

**Tommy's POV**

My head was down on the table when I heard the simultaneous dinging throughout the cafeteria. Along with my own phone, which vibrated on the table.

Something in the back of my mind told me to ignore the text. To ignore the next few moments, let it roll.

But I just couldn’t do that.

I picked up my phone to see messages upon messages from Nick’s Instagram account. 

With anxiety running rapid in my body, I unlocked my phone and opened Instagram.

The first post in my home feed made my eyes widen and my breath hitch.

_ @Sapnap: You all want the truth about George and Dream? Here it is. Here's the truth, from Mr. @TommyInnit himself. _

"No.. nononono…" I mumbled rapidly under my breath, feeling each and every set of eyes lock onto me.

Each set of eyes was more hostile than the last. Not a single person cared about how I felt. No. They were angry at me for ruining Clay.

Including Wilbur, whose harsh glare might have hurt the worst of all.

_ Sometimes, war isn’t worth waging, _ were the words in my head as we locked eyes. He told me that the day George showed up, and I didn’t listen to him.

I should’ve listened. 

As my staggered breathing picked up, making my chest tighten with the lack of oxygen, I made direct eye contact with Nick.

Nick, who looked so thrilled with himself over this. Nick, who gave me a glare that screamed 'get out of my school.'

Nick, who just ruined my life to spare George and Clay's reputations.

I can't do this anymore. 

I stood up, and with my bag in hand, walked out of the cafeteria. At first, that was all I planned to do.

But the back doors, which led to the outside world, were so endearing.

Just like that, I walked out those doors.

**Wilbur's POV**

The last time I remembered seeing Tommy, was when he walked out the doors of the cafeteria. With the video of his confession playing from all directions, I could've cared less where he was going, or how he was feeling.

Boy, did I wish I would've gone after Tommy.

I didn't usually see my brother again until we went to walk home. It was unusual for Tommy to be late, but I dealt with it anyway.

But Tommy never showed. 

I walked home by myself that day, watching the video Nick posted over and over, as an excuse as to why I hated Tommy right now.

That's not my brother. My brother would never deliberately sabotage someone like this.

What was wrong with Tommy?

I shook the thought out of my head as I unlocked the door. I shot Tommy a quick text, deflating in disappointment when it was left on seen.

_ You _

_ 3:47 pm _

Hey, Tommy. I'm leaving the door unlocked for when you get home.

_ Seen, 3:48 pm _

Despite the school work I had to finish before the upcoming two days off arrived, I spent the majority of my night waiting for a brother to return home.

Tommy never came home that night.

Texts were sent out almost immediately after I concluded something had happened.

_ You _

_ 8:19 pm _

_ (To everyone) _ Tommy is missing.

**Tommy's Point of View**

I had gotten used to the chill in the evening air rather quickly. I also thanked past Tommy for packing a hoodie for the school day, just in case.

What I'd never get used to, is how damn hard it is to stay hidden.

Seriously, people were everywhere! Everywhere I turned, there was someone who could probably turn me in, to send me home.

That is, until I found the woods on the edge of town.

Shelter from the chill, shelter from the watchful eye of the public, and very isolated.

In my own sick, twisted way, it was perfect.


	22. 21|Missing Children's Report|

**George's POV**

I sat next to Nick as he was playing Minecraft on his computer; currently, he was playing on a random PvP server. 

We haven't really talked much ever since that photo of Dream and I was leaked. Most of the time we spent together was in a somewhat comfortable silence. He blurted out, "Why… why did you leave school today?" 

I shrugged, looking down to my fingers for some sort of comfort from the topic. Nick continued to push on, "No, George, tell me." 

"I… I didn't… I heard… I-I couldn't be there anymore with everyone watching me! Is that what you wanted to know Nick? That I couldn't stand to be ridiculed any longer?!" I snapped back.

He logged off of the server, turning to me in his chair. 

"George… you should have told me, I-"

"And you'd do what exactly? Nothing, Nick! All you did was release that video, which probably made things worse for me!" 

I took in a shaky breath, feeling my frustration turn into a form of agony. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as my gaze danced over Nick's simple expression. 

Both of our phones buzzed simultaneously, breaking us out of our argument. Nick was first to check his phone, his eyes widening at the sight of the text. 

"What?" I wondered softly, my tone of voice differing greatly from before. 

I looked at my phone which sat on the desk, looking at the most recent text: 

**Wilbur**

**8:19 pm**

(To everyone)  _ Tommy is missing. _

And so that is why Nick and I were in his car the very next day on a bright, cheery, Tuesday in-service. 

After we both received the text, we both seemed to forget about the conversation we had moments previous. The only thing on our minds was Tommy, and how he went missing. 

I had to go find him; even after everything he had done to me, I still wanted to forgive him. I wanted to reconcile with him, because he was my best friend. If I could get that Tommy back just by trying to find him, I would be more than ecstatic. 

It took a lot of convincing to bring Nick along with me; at first, he said that "it was his fault he ran away", but slowly he grew to realize that Tommy was still a person. Tommy still deserved our support, because he was going through stuff too. 

Reluctantly, he agreed, but only because Karl was going. 

Eventually, Nick parked in the parking lot of the park. We both scrambled out of the car to meet up with the rest of our friends. We had no clue who else would be there, but I had almost no doubt in my mind that Dream wouldn't show up. Nonetheless, he was there, standing by himself while the others talked. 

Wilbur's gaze caught mine; it was frantic and sluggish, as if he hadn't slept last night.

"George! Nick!" He called from his spot in the center of the group. "George with Clay, Nick with Karl, split up and search!"

With no further parting words, Nick found his searching partner, Karl, while Dream sheepishly walked over to me. He gave me a small, uncertain smile, to which I returned, greeting, "Hello."

"Hi," he simply said. 

Bad and Wilbur made their way around the perimeter of the park, while Nick and Karl found their way to a patch of trees that sat to the right of the park. 

"Where did you want to… go?" I asked. 

"We can try the woods. He might have gone there." 

"Yeah." 

Quietly, we walked side by side to the edge of the neighboring woodland. I wondered, "Why did you want to search for him? Tommy?" 

"Well," he admitted, "he is one of our best soccer players… I don't think we would do as well without him." 

I hummed in response, looking around a tree in a nook between a boulder and another large tree. 

"Also, I want answers," he continued. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. I deserve to know--we both deserve to know--why he did it. Why he decided to screw it all up," he explained. 

I simply nodded, wandering into a clearing in the middle of the forest. It was calm, serine. Light shined through the slats of tree branches, illuminating the dark forest floor. All types of flowers and plants inhabited the floor of the woods, creating a lush greenery with hints of different color. 

A dark red boulder sat in the middle of the clearing, which looked quite comforting. I wasn't a large fan of nature, neither was I a fan of walking in it, so I plopped down onto the rock, taking a break. Dream stood awkwardly nearby, brushing his hair back to tame the wild locks that sat atop his head. 

He asked, "Why did you go?" 

"I… I felt guilty, to be honest. He was my best friend… and I know he messed up but I missed having him as my best friend. I want to change his mind about me, and if that means I have to search for him, then by all means I'll do exactly that." 

He nodded, seating himself next to me. I looked over to his face, which was shaded from a tall tree that sat behind us. Everything about him seemed dull and unappealing due to his mellow mood. I found myself missing the Dream I once knew before; the one I once had as a boyfriend. 

He returned my look, forcing me to redirect my attention elsewhere to avoid the uncomfortable and awkward eye contact. 

"I missed us," he said softly. 

"Me too," I agreed. 

We sat in more silence before returning to our ongoing search for Tommy. 

**Nick's POV**

I didn't really care to find Tommy because I thought he deserved to run away, so I only came to be with Karl. 

Speaking of, the smaller boy grabbed my hand as soon as we were out of the sight of others, dragging me further into the forest. We found ourselves deep in the woods, giggling at the situation we were in. 

I swiftly pulled him to the side, pushing him against a large oak tree. My hands sat on each side of Karl respectively, my lips close to his own. His breath picked up in speed when his lips parted. Our eyes met in a lovers gaze- passionate, loving, and trusting. 

I left a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips, feeling a mild heat rise to my cheeks. Karl's breathing hitched when his eyes closed one last time before a passionately ambrosial kiss which lasted mere seconds. He broke the kiss with a soft giggle as he rested his arms on my shoulders and clasped his hands behind my neck. 

"Should we really be doing this here?" Karl asked softly, looking around. 

His smile dropped at the sudden realization that our friends were nearby, and searching the area. 

I backed farther away from him, explaining, "Should we really hide anymore, Karl?" 

"But-" 

"Look at what happened to Dream and George. They… they broke up," I stated with uncertainty, looking past him and backing all the way back. 

His arms fell to his sides as he awkwardly leaned against the tree behind him. 

"So do you… want to tell people? About us?" 

"If we don't, then what might happen if people find out? What will we be then?" 

Karl shrugged, making eye contact with me. 

"If you're willing to do it, then so am I!" He said with a warm, excited smile. 

I returned the energy with another kiss to Karl's cheek, and then one to the middle of his rosy lips. 

"I'm excited to tell everyone that I have the best boyfriend in the whole school," I purred into his ear. 

"Stop it…" he laughed, kissing me on the cheek while wrapping his arms around my neck once more. 

**Wilbur's POV**

"Bad... Am I a bad brother...?"

He looked to me with a soured expression, immediately answering, "No, of course not! Why would you say that?" 

"He would've come home if I wasn't- If I had just... If I was better at being a brother… He's missing, and it's all my fault…"

"No, you can't say that," Bad smiled politely, "I think you're an amazing brother. You organized this whole search party just for him. Everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone is willing to right their wrongs like you!"

"I should've never left that lunch table..." Wilbur mumbled, putting his head in his hands. "I thought… I thought maybe he'd be fine all on his own… I didn't realize me leaving would cause this…"

Bad placed a gentle, kind hand on my back, consoling me gently. 

"Aw I don't think you should be so hard on yourself Wilbur." 

"He needed me… He needed me, and I ignored him. What kind of brother am I?"

Bad responded hopefully, "Wilbur, I think you need to stop thinking about what you didn't do, and start thinking about what you are gonna do when you find him- because we will find him."

"I'll never forgive myself if something happened to him. He's my responsibility, and I failed him. He has to be here… I can't handle any other option…"

"Don't worry Wilbur," Bad reiterated, "We will find him. I know it." 

"I hope you're right…"

**Dream's POV**

Both George and I walked in silence, looking in different nooks and crannies of the expansive woodland. George remained silent for most of it; his gaze was everywhere, but never met my own. 

"What do you think would've happened if we never split up, George?" I asked quietly. 

He stopped, turning to face me. 

"Truthfully, I'd probably be happy right now," he bluntly answered, turning back around and walking at a fast pace. 

My breathing slowed at his response that caught me so off-guard.  _ He'd be happy?  _

Suddenly, two energetic brown haired boys crashed into us, laughing. 

"What are you guys doing here? I thought you were still at the park?" George asked. 

"Well, we were but…" Nick looked to Karl, grinning, "We thought that we would help you guys!" Karl yelled. 

"Why are you being so loud?" I complained, continuing to walk without them. 

"Oh come on Dream, you don't need to be so pissy," Nick exclaimed. 

"Wait, shut up!" George said suddenly, turning to his left. 

It sounded like someone else was nearby; the soft rippling of pages and the crunch of twigs sounded through the woods.

Tommy was sitting against a tree, a book in his hands. He had his school stuff scattered all around him; he was working on homework, probably. He was a soccer player, after all. Keeping his grades up was part of that. 

But boy, did he look terrible.

He was slouched over his book, his eyes glazed over and lined with dark eye bags. His hair was all over the place, and his clothes were damp and dirty, from last night's quick rain shower.

In short, he looked defeated.

"Wilbur!" George yelled, startling Tommy. 

His pupils dilated when they caught mine, and he scrambled to stand, already in a full sprint before I could react. 

Nick screamed, "Tom-Tommy!" 

With some hesitation, I found myself in a full sprint as well, bounding over tree branches and small creeks. I could start to hear Tommy's footsteps along with his frantic breathing as I was slowly gaining traction on him. 

We were both long gone from the others, too far for them to catch up with us; it was up to me to catch him. I didn't want to let George down again. I had to catch him. 

My muscles tensed and stretched as I followed closely behind, reaching for the back of his red and white t-shirt. 

"Leave me alone, Clay!" He screeched, picking up speed once we got to a clearing. 

"In your dreams!" I yelled back. 

Tommy dodged around a tree, which threw me off-guard for a second, giving him enough time to get a couple second lead on me. 

My heart pounded against my chest but I pushed on, determined to catch him; It was like a game of manhunt, but this wasn't a game. It was a situation of Tommy's safety and wellbeing- a situation of whether Wilbur would get his brother back or not. 

No matter how long we ran and how much he disoriented me, I was still faster. I was still stronger. 

I could taste the satisfaction of victory when I felt the cotton cloth just barely within reach of my fingertips. Quickly, I yanked on the fabric as hard as I could, stumbling back from the forceful impact of Tommy on top of me. 

"What the fuck?!" Tommy screamed, scrambling in Clay's hold. He was desperate to get away, desperate to break the hold.

Desperate to run away. He did this on purpose.

I flipped us over and pinned him down, yelling, "WILBUR! GEORGE! NICK!" 

Tommy fidgeted under me, trying to push me off, but I was larger and the result was unsuccessful for him. 

"Tommy… it's useless, give up!" 

"Let go of me!... you massive prick!..." He screamed, with any hope someone would hear him, and assume he was being harassed or assaulted. He left his phone under the tree, so there was nobody to call.

"What the fuck do you want from me!?" 

I simply ignored him, forcing him down into the ground. I yelled for the group once more, hoping they would hear me. Within a minute or so of Tommy's constant struggling and babbling, Wilbur along with the rest of the group found us. I forced Tommy up off of the ground, holding his arm firmly so he couldn't escape again. 

Tommy fought, and he fought hard. It was clear from the never-ending struggle, that he didn’t want to return home. He was planning to be out here, all alone, for a really long time. Returning home seemed to spark the same amount of anxiety that was flared that day at the private practice, when he nearly walked away just because he was being watched. 

For once, I kind of felt bad for him; to see him so broken, so disheveled, just because of his anxiety hit different. 

I then said, "Stop Tommy, you can't just run away. I'm faster than you, so just give up." 

“Just let go of me…” He pleaded. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to George, to Wilbur, nobody. He hates me anyway, I have no reason to go home… I don’t want to see any of them… Let me go..”

"Look Tommy, I'm sorry," George spoke up, breaking the dazed, panicked expression on Tommy's face. 

“I’m out here for a fucking reason…” Tommy growled with false superiority. “I understood the fucking message once.” He shot an exhausted glare to Nick. “Can’t mess with someone who doesn’t exist.” 

"'Can't mess with someone who doesn't exist'!" Nick scoffed, adding, "You only did this for attention, Tommy! Why else would you run away?" 

“You told me to quit making things about myself, Nick. And I did. I left. Can't worry about someone who isn’t around, right? You won, okay? I got the message. So did everyone else.”

"That doesn't mean running away," Bad softly added to the conversation. "Toby really likes you! You could've always talked to him!"

“Give me a fucking break…” Tommy mumbled. “I’m not an idiot. I haven’t had anyone other than Wilbur to talk to since the beginning of Middle School. Things aren’t changing now, he did it to be nice one time.”

"I tried to be your friend Tommy… I tried to talk to you but all you did was just… push me away at the party!" George exclaimed. 

“You willingly took Wilbur’s friendship and corrupted it when you were kids, then turned around and pretended like nothing happened! Why should I forgive you for that? You hurt him beyond your understanding, then tried to fix everything. And he fucking fell for it! He walked away and chose you, it’s always about you!” For the first time since the screaming match began, Tommy made an attempt (effective, but futile) to escape the grip.

I pulled him back, saying, "No Tommy, I'm not letting you go that easy." 

George continued, his face twisted into a confused expression, "What are you talking about? I… Wilbur and I… I loved Wilbur- I loved you! I wrote so many letters," his voice started to crack, "So many FUCKING letters Tommy! Now you're telling me I ruined the friendship? I spent so, so long trying to… find you both and right my wrongs but I couldn't. It was hopeless... I was hopeless…" his voice turned into an indiscernible mumble towards the end. 

“Everything is always about you. Every single person standing here has focused on you, and only you, for weeks on end.” Tommy jerked out of the hold, and backed away. “It’s always you,” He mumbled before walking away. 

"Wait! Come back! Please!” George begged, pulling him back by the hand. "I'm sorry Tommy… I… I never meant to hurt you like this. Seriously…"

“The damage is fucking done-” He pushed George’s hand off his wrist, making more direct eye contact with Nick. “Right? The damage is done.”

Nick then said, "Well, yeah. It has. What's that old saying? An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind? You fucked up too, Tommy. You can't continue to act like the victim at all times and lash out!" 

“I know I fucked up! But I did what I did to finally feel some sort of importance to someone! Everyone focused so much on George that they decided to forget that I have feelings, too! My own fucking brother decided I wasn’t good enough anymore, what did you expect me to do!?” Tommy stormed off, heading in the opposite direction of where his stuff was located. 

"Fuck…" George mumbled to himself, leaning against a tree. 

Wilbur was in a perpetual state of shock. He stood behind Bad, who was standing with his arms crossed.

Nick and Karl looked to each other, Karl a bit confused as to everything that was going on. 

"Wait! Tommy!" I yelled, jogging behind him. 

“I’m not fucking going back, Clay. Leave me the hell alone.”

"Tommy… I… I…" I stumbled over my words, eventually saying, "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm sorry for… for being so hard on you. Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

“I wanted someone to care… At one point, that’s what I wanted… But after the picture went out, I lost that right to have someone care… Go on with your lives… Leave... It’s what you’re all good at…”

"Did you even think about how Wilbur is feeling right now? You're just going to leave, and that's it?"

“He didn’t seem to care yesterday… None of you cared, actually. I reached out for someone to listen to me. Twice. Both times, I was shut down and told my feelings weren’t important… You and Nick both couldn’t have cared less…”

I grimaced under the weight of his words, remembering all the times I had ever interacted with him; they were very harsh, to say the least. 

I softly apologized once more, "Tommy, I didn't mean whatever I said to you. This 'status' stuff… it's stupid. I… I get caught up in it all sometimes, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair of me, and I know that." 

“I just wanted someone to listen… Not tell me I was being childish or clingy, or that my feelings didn’t matter… I wanted someone to actually listen to me for once…” Tommy sat against a nearby tree, pulling his knees to his chest and putting his head down. The slight tremble from his shoulders was a dead giveaway of how much he was holding back in the moment.

Holding back, for the sake of protecting himself and his ‘tough guy’ reputation.

I sat down next to him, pulling one of my knees close to me. I draped my right arm over it, lowering the volume at which I was speaking when I said, "Look Tommy… I think that you should give us all another chance, but this time…" I tested my words in my head, carefully saying, "I think you should try and… understand where we're coming from. George, he does really care about you, and so does Wilbur." I laughed as I joked, "Nick, probably not so much but you can't win them all."

“I… I think you’re wrong…” Tommy mumbled. “If you all had cared, I wouldn’t be out here… You all seemed to make it really clear that you didn’t care… How come, when my life is on the line, suddenly I’m important? I don’t understand…” 

"Well Tommy," I continued, "That's where you're wrong… George always cared about you, you just pushed him away, so he stayed away." 

I ran my hand through a patch of grass next to me, plucking a blue flower from the ground. 

“So I’m just supposed to forgive him for ditching Wilbur after we left? I spent weeks in Wilbur’s room with him, while he sobbed his heart out over losing his closest friend. But it’s easily forgivable because he’s George. He does no wrong... Walks on water...”

I twirled the stem of the flower between my pointer finger and thumb, continuing, "Well, I don't really know what happened between you, Wilbur, and George, but I know that George would never do that now. And if he did do it, then he definitely changed. You should give him a chance Tommy, just one." 

“...And what am I supposed to do when he lets my expectations down again? You don’t know what it’s like to not have friends. You’ve had friends your entire life. All I ever had was Wilbur, and he was taken from me. He walked away, choosing friends over family. He quit caring when George sat alone. He always preaches never letting people be alone, but I was alone for weeks…”

"And what if George doesn't let your expectations down?" I wondered. "You'd have one more friend. If he lets you down, which I doubt he will, then what would happen? Nothing, really. You'd just be back to having no one. So why not take the chance? You have nothing to lose."

“You’re missing the point… I watched Wilbur walk away, and not bat an eye in my direction from that day forward. I could feel each and every set of eyes lock onto me as they watched him walk away. People watching me stress me out so... So badly… All because Wilbur chose to have friends instead of being tied to his annoying baby brother all the time… But it makes me so angry at myself, that people watching me is what makes me want to cry until I can’t anymore. Wilbur walking away, then everything that went down within the last week… I don’t really know how to… I don’t think trusting anyone works for me… What’s to say I’m not meant to be alone for the rest of my life? I can’t handle eyes watching my every move, I can’t breathe whenever people talk about me, I don’t have friends. Those signs tell me I was built to be on my own, without anyone around... “

Tommy took a deep, shaky breath, the tremble in that breath giving away the fact that was still emotional. He was still hurting.

“I’m really, really sorry… For everything I started…” He mumbled, his tone getting quieter as he fought back everything he felt at once. This kid, as hard as he tried, sounded like he was ready to cry. “I’m sorry for ruining your relationship, and for making all of your friends waste an entire day searching for me, and just- Just for everything… I know you deserve a lot more than just a pathetic apology, and that you probably don’t care about it, but… I’m sorry…” He rambled.

"I… I don't think I'm the only one who deserves an apology… but I appreciate it. I don't think I'm ready to forgive you right now but… I do really appreciate it," I smiled facing Tommy. "And Tommy, I do care. From now on. Alright?" 

“You… You don’t have to do that to yourself… I know you don’t like me… I’m not going to add my stupid, childish problems onto your own…”

"Tommy… your problems aren't 'stupid' or 'childish'. They are valid, and I'm aware of that," I assured. "I know that I don't have to be there for you, but I want to be. I also understand that you might not trust me after everything, but I think that could change." 

“We play the same sport… That’s all we do. Why should you have to care? I told you earlier, I’m not fit to take your place like you think I am. Us being friends isn’t going to change that. It’ll just put a new peg into your reputation. You’d be ‘friends’ with the annoying freshman.”

I scoffed, "So? I don't care… I shouldn't care. Tommy, we don't have to be friends, but I just don't want you as an enemy," I paused, throwing the blue flower next to me. I took a deep breath before continuing, "You don't need to be exactly like me to take my place. I think that with time, you'll see it too- you'll see what I see in you. Because I was like you as a freshman, in your same exact place. Look where I am now!" 

“People actually like you, dickhead,” Tommy grumbled. “They don’t like me.”

"But they can! I was 'The Annoying Freshman'! I changed it around for myself, and you could too. You just need to be a little more optimistic."

“When? When were you in my place? Your reputation spread to the Middle School, everyone in my grade knew about 'Clay from High School'.”

"Let me tell you a story Tommy…" I started, now sitting cross-legged. "When I was in eight grade, I was popular- well, until my 'friends' got us in trouble. Actually, they got ME in trouble, for shoplifting and assault. I… I was arrested, and a few charges were put against my name. My parents were not happy, because I almost screwed my whole future and we had a lot of fees to pay. We aren't exactly rich; I mean, we still aren't. Can barely eat half of the time...

My first day back, I remember being so excited to see them, but they brushed me off and pretended like I never existed. Nick, and even your brother, didn't really want to be associated with the thief, or the hot head. So that's when my 'status' dropped and I was forced to spend my freshman year mostly alone with no one else. 

I got my 'status' back, although, when I started playing soccer non-stop. Anyone could attest to this; I have a one-track mind when it comes to something I enjoy. Eventually, though, I was able to gain back the respect of my peers. Soon enough, my old friend group was caught, and they all dropped out from high school. That brings us to where we are today.

My point is, Tommy, that I was there. I was in your position, but I never gave up. I kept trying my best."

“Really?” His otherwise defensive, angry tone was quiet, as it should be for a child in emotional pain _. _ But it also had a genuinely curious edge to it. He wanted to know more. He wanted a connection with someone.

This was that connection.

"Yeah Tommy," I let out a small sigh, "That's why… I'm here. I felt bad because I knew what you were going through, I was just too blinded by my hatred for what you did that I forgot." 

“...I’m going to definitely blackmail you with this someday,” Tommy teased, letting his usual lighthearted banter seep through his tone for the first time in weeks. 

I livened up at the sound of his lighthearted nature; finally, I broke through to him! 

I laughed lightly, remarking, "Try it and see what Nick will do to you." 

Tommy joined in on the laugh with a tired chuckle of his own. It died down though, and his tone was more sincere this time. “I really am sorry, Clay,” He said, turning to make eye contact. “I know you probably don’t care about whatever pathetic, worthless apology I can muster up, but I took my frustration about being on my own out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

"No, I understand Tommy. I really do," I stood up, brushing the grass off of the back of my pants. I held out my hand, offering, "Come on, let's go back."

“For the record, though... It wasn’t me who sent out the photo. I took it, yes. I admit to taking it. But I didn’t send it.”

I smiled lightly, pulling Tommy up from the ground. 

"Of course not Tommy; I think I know who did, though."

**Tommy's POV**

The walk back to the group, frankly, wasn’t all that bad. 

My newfound respect for Clay quickly changed to be a sort of admiration for him, when we stuck to talking about Clay’s life before becoming an Elite. It was so nice to finally be talking with him, and not Clay talking down upon me.

For a moment, my anxiety was forgotten.

I didn’t think about how the last few weeks have been the worst of my entire life. I didn’t think about the confrontation I had to deal with in approximately two minutes. I didn’t think about the mess I created, straight out of… What? Jealousy? Hatred? I didn’t even know.

The floodgates of fear were reopened when we returned.

“...I can’t do it,” I mumbled, stopping in my tracks about 400 feet from the group. “They all hate me for this already. I can’t…”

Clay placed a hand of reassurance on my shoulder, saying, "If they didn't want to forgive you, then they wouldn't be here. Just give them a chance like I gave you a chance. Alright?" 

“There’s too many of them, Clay… They’ll all be watching me, searching for a single slip up-”

He interrupted, "Please, calm down. Do you really think someone like Bad or… or Karl would do that to you?" 

“Nick and Wilbur would… George might, too…” 

"Nick is… well Nick, and Wilbur is your own brother! He was so worried for you when you left, I was afraid he was going to have a meltdown when I first got here. And George… he wants to be friends with you again." 

“...Stay with me?” 

"... of course."

I took a deep breath, trying as hard as I could to settle the growing anxiety in my stomach, before continuing the walk, leading up to the group. 

"You ready?" Clay asked before we stepped up to the group. 

“It’s now or never, I guess… I don’t really have another shot at this…”

Clay nodded, taking the lead as we stepped into the circle of people. 

"I found him," Clay announced, motioning back to me. 

My gaze flickered back and forth, amongst each member of the group. I took notice of Bad’s concern, Wilbur’s paranoia, Karl’s genuine confusion, George’s fear, and Nick’s hostility.

“I… I talked to Clay…” 

"Did you now?" Nick snapped. 

Clay shushed him, aggressively shooting back, "Shut up Nick, it's cool… he's cool." 

“So.. Um… I guess I should start with you,” I muttered, looking up to make eye contact with George. “I’m really… Really sorry… What I did is really out of line, and...” I took another deep breath, desperately trying to settle the anxiety again. “And you deserve a lot better than a pathetic apology, but… It’s the best I’ve got at the moment…” 

George took in a deep breath, smiling. 

"I… I understand Tommy. I… what you did… it was really bad but… I think I can learn to forgive you. Maybe we could try again," he responded thoughtfully. 

“You deserve a lot better than an apology, for the shit I started… But if you’re adamant on wanting to try again…” I glanced over his shoulder, to search Clay’s gaze for the confirmation nod. 

Clay gave me a simple grin and nod, motioning for me to continue. 

“...Then I’m willing to try again… It won’t ever be the way it was when we were kids, but... I’m willing to try...”

"Thank you, Tommy. I'm glad to have you back," George grinned. 

“Okay… Um…” Tommy’s gaze moved to Nick, where I flinched under the angry glare. “I-It’s your turn…”

"Go on," Nick replied passive-aggressively. His tone was impatient, which was also evident in the way he stood with his arms crossed. 

“I’m really sorry for hurting your friends… You’re another person that deserves more than a worthless apology, but it’s a start… It’s all I can really do until I can make it up to you all… I’d also like to put it on record, that I don’t want you taking the video down. I… I want you to spread it even further. Make it viral, do something. I... I deserve that.”

Nick's eyes flickered to behind me, looking for some sort of indication from Clay or George as to how to handle his apology. He sighed, mumbling, "As long as George and Dream are fine with your apology, then I guess I am too… I'll take the video down. It's caused enough trouble already." 

Nick pulled out his phone, tapping away on the screen. 

“No, I’m serious, leave it there. Share it, repost it, send it to people. The world needs to know, don’t they? People need to know how shitty of a human being I am.”

Nick's thumb hovered over his screen as he asked, "Are you sure?" 

I hesitated for a moment, before nodding, “I’m positive… I’m serious; I deserve it for the shit I did to George and Clay. There’s a saying, ‘Karma’s a bitch', that video is mine.”

"If you insist," Nick shrugged, putting his phone back into his hoodies pocket. 

“I trust you’ll know when the right time to take it down is.” 

"Sure," Nick responded, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. 

“And… I hope one day you’ll learn to forgive me… Or if not, I applaud you for the anger… And the power… You have over me.”

Nick lightly chuckled at the mention of his power; he casually replied, "I think I can try, if Dream and George are willing."

“That’s up to them. I don’t think I deserve forgiveness, but… Whatever suits you three.”

"We aren't as… dangerous or 'cut-throat' as you make us out to be, Tommy," Clay added. 

Nick retorted, "Maybe a little too forgiving…" 

Karl nudged Nick, signalling for him to shut up. 

“Yeah, I would definitely say too forgiving,” Tommy agreed with a nod. 

George smiled, looking down to his shoes while kicking the ground. 

“Um… I don’t really know what I did to Bad or Karl, but I’m sure I owe you two an apology too, because I fucked things up for everyone… So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever I did.”

"Bro, you're good," Karl beamed a smile directly at me. "I'm just happy you're back." 

"Yeah, same here," Bad chimed in. "You have nothing to apologize for!" 

I hummed in response. Honestly, I was hoping I had done something, so that I would have a reason to avoid trying to make up for being a shit brother. But they didn’t let anything happen, so I was stuck speaking to Wilbur next.

I took yet another deep breath, this time turning to Wilbur. “Um… Hi…” I muttered awkwardly. This is the first time we’d properly get to speak in weeks, I had to be absolutely perfect. If I'm not perfect, Wilbur is bound to walk away again, right?

“I owe you more than just a two word apology, too… But I’ve kind of ruined my chances of being allowed to completely make it up to you… I’m really, really sorry for… Well… Being the worst brother on the planet… I got mad at you just because you wanted to be normal, and I went about being angry in the wrong way… I don’t really have an excuse for being angry, either. I mean, I held you back from making friends for so many years… You have to be your own person eventually. I understand that… And I guess I’d get used to it, if we aren’t side by side all the time.”

“...Tommy-”

“And I’d get it, if you ultimately chose George over me tomorrow. I’d choose George over me after all the shit I’ve done, too.”

“Tommy…-”

“I won’t blame you for moving up to the Elites, either. You belong there, a spot is waiting for you-”

“Tommy! Stop talking for a second, and listen to me,” Wilbur interrupted. “Listen to me well, okay? I understand you fucked up. First with the picture, then running off. Yeah, I’m really, really upset with you right now.” 

My gaze fell to the ground, flooding with disappointment. I deserved that, I really did, but I didn’t think it would hurt that badly.

“I’m not finished,” Wilbur commented. He must have caught the disappointment. “I’m upset with you, because you focused on revenge over forgiveness. In a way, Nick was right. You were begging for attention.” 

“Okay, if this is what this is going to turn out to be, then I think this is-”

“Shut up, Tommy. I’m still not finished. Begging for attention, yes. But in the way Nick thought it was, no. You wanted someone there. I failed, as a brother, to prepare you for High School. I failed, as a brother, to be there for you no matter what the world throws at you. You may have fucked up, big time, but I failed as an older brother to give you what you needed to survive the hardest years of your life. I’m just as much to blame as you are. None of this would be happening, if I hadn’t left you alone that day. If I had gone back to you, or even taken you with me, nothing would be happening right now. But I didn’t, and I’m really sorry. I’m sorry to all of you, too. Part of this is my fault. The whole situation sparked because I chose making friends over being a big brother.” 

Bad said, "Awww, you muffins." 

He genuinely looked like he was going to tear up at Wilbur and I. 

"They're trying to have a serious moment, Bad, and you really just said, 'awww you muffins'?" Nick joked, impersonating Bad. 

"Hey! I do not sound like that!" Bad lightheartedly yelled back. 

"I mean, you kind of do," George added softly. 

"I cannot believe you guys," Bad huffed, crossing his arms. 

Clay scoffed, chuckling as he said, "You guys are such children." 

They laughed, leaving the silence afterwards for Wilbur and I to continue our conversation.

“Anyways, you and I have things to work out, Tommy. We haven’t hardly spoken in weeks now, and it isn’t going to just go back to normal. But, I want my baby brother back. I miss having someone to talk to when everyone else is busy or with someone else.”   
  


“Why… Why don’t you hate me? After everything I started?”

“....Why would I hate you?” Wilbur asked, his tone softening along with his gaze. “You’re my baby brother…”

“Because I-I did what I did! Everything that’s happened-”

I was cut short when I was pulled into a hug. A Wilbur hug. What a classic signature feeling. 

“Tommy… Just because you messed up, doesn’t mean I’m going to love you any less. I can’t hate you, you’re a carbon copy of me. Nothing you could ever do to me, to my friends, to anyone, would make me hate you. Absolutely nothing.” 

"The same does not go for me," Nick joked. 

Karl bumped into him once more, yelling, "Nick shut up!”

Nick laughed, wrapping an arm around the smaller and leaning his head on top of Karl's.

Wilbur and I both chuckled at the interaction. Wilbur then made sure we made eye contact by tilting my head up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t hate you, okay? I want you to understand that. I know you’re mentally struggling right now, but I don’t hate you. Nobody standing here hates you… I hope. Or my statement is a lie. Either way, you have the support from the people around you. I know, for sure, five of the six of us are absolutely willing to listen to your inner turmoil. Nick… He’s iffy,” I chuckled at the hollow insult towards Nick.

“Yeah, I get it now. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to… Like… Talk to someone. But… Between you and George being friends, and my anger towards him, you weren’t an option. Clay and George themselves kind of hated me before… Or, I thought they did. I don’t really know Bad and Karl that well, and Nick straight up despises me. I didn’t know what to do. My outlet wasn’t right.”

"I never hated you, Tommy," George butted in. "I could never hate you; you're one of my only two friends from Britain. It would be unfair of me." 

Nick checked his phone, sighing as he said, "George, we should be getting back. Dad wants us there so we can go out to eat with some of his work friends." 

"It better not be that Italian restaurant again…" George mumbled. "Goodbye Tommy, everyone."

“Save travels George, you too, Nick,” Wilbur said, sending them a warm smile. “I need to get Tommy home anyway. He looks exhausted, and really needs a warm shower to eliminate the chill from the rain last night.”

George turned to Clay, giving him a doe-eyed expression with a soft, loving smile. God, was it obvious that George was in love with Clay, just by the way he looked at him. The same could be said for Clay; his heartbroken gaze was almost sickening. For the first time in a long time, I felt bad for them both. 

I created that longing in their eyes. Damn. I’m a monster, aren’t I?

"Uhm… see you some other time, I guess," George stumbled over his words.

"Uh… yeah. For sure."

“Uh… Hey, Clay?” Tommy asked, turning away from Wilbur, who was walking away.

"Yeah Tommy?" He turned away from George, who was hesitating to catch up with his cousin who stood impatiently waiting for him. 

“Do you think… Are you free tomorrow?”

"I am, actually," he replied with a smirk; this time, the smirk was friendly. It heavily contrasted the type of smirks he threw my way previously. 

“Did you…” I almost asked the question, but decided to reword it into a statement. “I want to kick your ass in a 1v1 tomorrow.” 

Clay's competitive nature was apparent as he said, "Maybe if I let you."

“It’s on. I’m holding you to that promise that you’ll lose to me. A freshman. How embarrassing that’ll be for you,” I taunted with a smirk.

"Very, but who said that would ever happen?" He chuckled lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

“Bring your A Game, Big Man. It’s on.”

"Oh, you know I will,  _ Tommy, _ " he turned, leaving with a simple wave over his shoulder. 

Bad then looked at his phone and said, "Oh no. I missed my shift at the café! Got to go!" 

Bad darted through the forest, Karl following directly behind, yelling, "Take me with you I'm starving!" 

Wilbur and I said our final goodbyes to both sets of boys, before beginning the walk home. I couldn’t lie to myself; this walk was one of the most comfortable I’d felt in weeks. No more fighting, no more hatred, it was gone.

It felt fucking fantastic.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ someone took the time to listen to me, to hear me out and help me bear the stress of being a student in High School. Clay was there to take my hand, as I reached out for someone to help me.

Being understood felt fantastic, too.

Someone understanding exactly where I was coming from, and why I was the way I was, felt so good. I wouldn’t have admitted this a few days ago, but I had a newfound respect for Clay. Our growing bond as friends means a lot more to me than I think Clay understands.

Everything was falling into place; the puzzle pieces were fitting together. I loved it. 

Finally, I was content. 


	23. 22|Self-Realization With Wilbur & Tommy|

**Dream’s POV**

I sat in my car, watching as George walked by, heading straight into the passenger side of Nick's car. We met gaze through the windshield before inevitably breaking it when Nick drove off. 

I caused him the pain. I know I did. 

What did I do, other than just hurt the both of us? 

Every time I looked at George, I could only see the hurt, disdainful expression the day I told him we couldn't work; that we weren't meant to be only based on circumstance. 

Slowly, but surely, I was regretting the decision I made. 

I put my key into the ignition, waving to Wilbur and Tommy who started to walk alongside the side of the road. I noticed how Tommy seemed sluggish, and I felt bad for him, so I decided that I would at least offer them a ride home. 

Slowly, I drove next to them, rolling down my window. 

"Hey," I asked, "Did you want a ride home?"

Wilbur looked over with a small, relieved smile. “That’d be fantastic, man. Thanks a lot.”

"Well, get in." 

Both hopped into the backseat quickly- Tommy looking the most relieved. 

“Seriously, Clay, I cannot thank you enough for everything today,” Wilbur mumbled quietly after some silence. “None of us would be heading home right now, if you hadn’t been here.”

"Ah, it's no problem," I tapped the steering wheel with the pads of my fingers impatiently, waiting for the light to change. "I'm just glad that one of the star players is back." 

I chuckled lightly, looking in the rearview mirror to Tommy. 

Tommy rolled his eyes sluggishly, muttering, “I’m not a star player. How many times are we going to go over this?” 

"Trust me Tommy, I know. I am probably the best player so I would know," I laughed, turning onto a different street. 

“You egotistical dickhead,” He responded, the usual words he said to taunt being a lot less venomous, and more of a tease.

I joked, "There's the Tommy I know! He's back!" 

“I’m arguing with a George simp, why am I arguing with a George simp?” 

The smile that was present on my face slowly dissipated into nothing. A proverbial dagger made of regret and sorrow stabbed me right in my heart instantly.

"Yeah," I replied simply, any sort of playful nature drained from my voice. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Tommy’s previous exhaustion seemed to disappear for a few moments. “You’re like, all depressed. Just fix it. Talk to him or something.”

"It… it's not that simple."

“You’re making it that difficult. Because you won’t just talk to him. How hard can it-”   
  


“Tommy,” Wilbur warned, stopping his brother short. “This- No, that’s not how it works.”

"No, no, it's fine Wilbur," I stopped Wilbur. 

I found myself wanting to spill all of my emotions onto them, but I didn't really know them that well. I wanted an outlet, and Wilbur and Tommy were there. 

"I- I don't know why I can't," I continued. "I really like him- almost like a love, I guess. I remember the time we went to the ice skating rink, and we skated on the ice, but my own selfishness made it uncomfortable because truthfully I didn't want to be seen with him- I wanted to hold his hand but I couldn't. I couldn't even bring myself to do that without feeling anxious and… and disappointed in myself. He deserves… more," my voice broke into a softer one. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

“You needed an outlet,” Wilbur commented softly. “I’m completely willing to listen to your rants anytime, by the way. But I know a certain someone who just listened to someone else rant for about a half hour, so you deserved the chance. I think you should figure out what you want, first. You can’t force yourself to come out, just to please him. You have to want it too, Clay.”

"But… but I do Wilbur! I do! And- and I can't…" I felt tears start to form in the corners of my eyes as they met with Wilbur's, "I can't… I don't know!" I yelled, slamming my right hand against the steering wheel as a sign of frustration. "I'm so selfish…" I managed to stutter out, finally caving in on myself and revealing all of the emotions I had been trying to hold back. 

“It’s not selfish, Clay,” Tommy mumbled, fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie. “I would know first hand what being selfish is. You’re emotionally protecting yourself from being hurt. As you should rightfully be allowed to do.” 

We sat at another red light, a bokeh effect from the tears clouding my eyes. 

"I guess… I… fuck," my thoughts frustratingly trailed off into the abyss forming inside of my head. 

“But Wil is right,” Tommy continued. “You have to figure out what you want, before you can make the decision on whether you talk to him or not.”

I sniffled, stepping on the gas once the light turned green. 

"I- I want George. That's what I want," I laughed lightly. "I want to be the reason he smiles… I want… I want to make him happy. I want to be there for him, through everything… because…" 

My rambling devolved into silence. I took a deep breath, continuing, "because, I love him. I love George-fucking-Davidson."

Tommy let silence ring through the car again, his gaze flickering back and forth, as if trying to contemplate what he was going to say. “You…. Your relationship wouldn’t stay hidden forever…” It was nearly impossible to miss the tension that hit him full force. He was being a hypocrite about this, and he knew it. “You have to make a choice…”

"See, that's the problem… I… can't. I would have to though… I would have to-"

“You’d have to come out, I get it. But... I did half the work for you,” Tommy muttered with a slight edge in his tone, probably aimed at himself. “All you’d have to do is be proud of it, right?”

I smiled, my thoughts wandering to George once again. 

"I don't know what it is about him. About George," I laughed lightly. "But I can't get him out of my head… honestly he lives there rent-free," I joked.

“What do you have to lose, in coming out? Either way, whether you deny it or accept it, you’ll have people to stand by you. If you deny it, nothing changes. If you accept it, George and Wilbur become your right-hand men, probably Nick, too. You know what it feels like to be isolated, I know, too. But you wouldn’t be isolated this time.”

Fear struck me as I thought about the idea of coming out; to be the president of chess club, the captain of the soccer team… and bisexual? What would people think of me then? What would I be?

"I worked so hard to be where I am," I explained slowly. "I… I don't want to see that all go to waste, to see my reputation just… just crumble into nothing." 

“You’re the president of the Chess Club; you’re the captain of the soccer team; you’re the king of the Elites. They’re just titles, Clay. You’re human, like every single one of us.” 

"Yeah? Perhaps… perhaps you're right," I said. "But… I know what… it felt like to lose everything and I don't know if I want to risk that- risk the possibility of that happening."

“You gained your titles based on what you can do, nothing else. You lost them once, and were able to build those walls back up again. Didn’t you tell me to give people second chances? Give yourself one.”

Wilbur silently looked out the window, allowing Tommy and I to talk uninterrupted. I let the conversation end because I couldn't stand to admit he was right and I was wrong- to Tommy of all people. 

Soon enough, we made it to the front of Wilbur's and Tommy's home, where I pulled alongside the curb. 

"Thank you," I smiled at both of them. "Thank you for letting me talk to both of you."

“Of course!” Wilbur said with a smile, opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride home, and seriously, thank you so, so much for searching today.”

"No problem," I replied. "Still up for tomorrow?" 

“I don’t have a life, Clay,” Tommy self-deprecatingly teased. “I don’t do anything. So, no, I don’t have anything going on.”

"Maybe this time you could beat me," I smiled at him. 

“I highly doubt I’ll beat you, but I’m willing to try again,” He responded with a small shrug. “I’m not that good. Yet, I guess.” 

"See you then." 

“Give yourself a second chance. You were strong enough to be able to regain respect once. If anyone can do it again, it's my captain.” 

It took me a second to remember what he was talking about, but I simply smiled and said, "Thank you… Tommy. I'll try to remember that." 

Leaving the conversation at that, Tommy got out of the truck and followed Wilbur up to the steps of their house. Both boys were met with hugs from their parents, the hugs being given to Tommy much more secure and thankful.

I watched as they were pulled inside by their parents, a look of gratefulness and happiness on all of their faces. I smiled, putting my car into reverse and driving back home. 

I thought a lot on the slow ride back home; mainly about what Tommy said. 

Me being president of Chess Club, me being the captain of the soccer team- it was all just  _ titles.  _

Why in the world should I care about what others thought of me, when I already made it to the top of the social hierarchy? 

Why should I care what others thought of me when I would have George by my side? 

_ George Davidson.  _

_ George fucking Davidson.  _

I laughed, thinking about how much George had turned my life upside down within such a short amount of time. Truly, he was a beacon of light, but he didn't come without baggage (which I was willing to carry). Never before had I felt so committed to someone in such a short amount of time. 

My point was, I  _ loved  _ him. I fucking  _ loved  _ him. I shouldn't care about anything else besides him. 

I knew what I was doing the next day; I was going to take advantage of the day I had off from school, and tell George exactly what he needed to hear from me. 


	24. 23|Checkmate, Baby|

**George's POV**

Nick sat back in his swivel chair, texting on his phone. I sat on my single bed, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram until I stopped on a particular post; it was just an ad, but it caught my attention. It was an ad for suicide prevention. Naturally, it reminded me about my dad. Strangely enough, I usually didn't get reminded of my dad as much anymore- quite rarely did it happen, but for some reason it happened that day. 

_ "That's a good move! Good job!" My dad held up his hand above the board, reaching for a high five.  _

_ I laughed, reaching up to return the high five.  _

_ "I'm gonna beat you!" I cheered, moving my queen.  _

_ Dad smiled his signature, shit eating grin that I had grown to love, moving one of his pieces.  _

_ "Well not today George. Checkmate."  _

_ I looked down to the board, disappointment washing over me. I crossed my arms, huffing as I hit my back against the chair.  _

_ "That's not fair! You always win! I don't wanna play anymore…"  _

_ His smile dropped into a smaller one, partially concerned. He replied, "You can't just give up Georgie! No one ever got better by quitting."  _

_ "But I never win…" I mumbled.  _

_ "Look," he sighed, "It shouldn't be about winning. It should be about the journey to winning- if you do win."  _

_ I sat forward, looking down at the pieces with a shallow sadness.  _

_ "Do you like chess, Georgie?" _

_ I nodded, looking back up to meet eye contact with my dad.  _

_ "Then, that's all that matters!"  _

_ I smiled, helping my dad to reset the board.  _

_ In my young naivety, I exclaimed, "I'm gonna win!"  _

_ My dad only laughed, replying, "Yeah Georgie, maybe this time!" _

_ We both softly laughed, my dad taking the first move.  _

I smiled fondly at the memory, remembering it as if it was only yesterday. 

Slowly, my smile fell as I realized that I could never have those fond memories ever again. I sighed, putting my phone to sleep and placing it into the pocket of  _ Dream's  _ hoodie. 

I quickly hopped off of my bed, finding the chess board I had hidden in the very bottom of my suitcase (with no surprise; I still had not unpacked my stuff). Nick asked, "What's that?" 

I ran my hand over the metal edges of the unusually heavy board, admiring the overall handiwork and craftsmanship of it. 

"It's… it's the last thing my dad ever gave me," I explained, opening the compartment in the top to see if the pieces were still inside where I last left them. 

Not wanting to continue the conversation any further in fear of upsetting me, he simply replied, "Oh," returning to his activities on his phone. 

I only shook my head, taking the board downstairs with me to the backyard. I wanted to enjoy my school holiday off in the warm Florida weather that I usually never got in the UK.

I sat under the slightly shaded pergola, placing the chess board down on a wooden patio table. I smiled as I set the pieces up, admiring the horse's face on the knight and the regal details etched into the metal of the king's piece. 

_ "I think that you should have this Georgie," my dad smiled.  _

_ He handed forward the chess board as I sat on my bed, playing on my GameBoy. I set it down, taking the board from him.  _

_ "Really!? Why!?" I asked, almost as excited as if it were Christmas Day.  _

_ He nodded, answering, "I think you should have it. You need all the practice you could possibly get if you ever wanted to beat me."  _

_ He sat down next to me, pulling me into a side hug. I smiled, replying, "I love it."  _

_ He gave me a quick kiss on the top of the head, patting my back.  _

_ "I'm glad you do; my family has had this board for generations. It's only right I do my part and give it to the next generation," he beamed.  _

I chuckled lightly, putting forth a pawn on both sides. 

_ "Come back here!"  _

_ I ran as fast as I could barefoot on pebbles down the shore of Brighton. My dad was finally free from work, leaving me and my parents to do whatever we wanted for the next few days.  _

_ "No!" I screamed back playfully, laughing.  _

_ I felt him scoop me up, exclaiming, "Got ya!"  _

_ I screeched between my fits of giggles.  _

_ "Be careful!" My mom yelled from behind us, catching up to us.  _

_ "Don't worry we will love," dad replied, plopping me back down on the rocks.  _

I was so carefree; so blissfully unaware of what was about to plague my mom and I. 

How could I not see it? 

How could I not remember the sadness in my fathers eyes, or the moments in between his bouts of playfulness? 

My smile dropped as I moved a bishop on the opposite side. 

I always played black because it was my dad's color; he told me it helped him win a championship once before. 

"Hey." 

I jumped, looking up to see a tall blond standing in front of me. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked, an aggressive edge laced through the words that I didn't really mean to add. 

"Oh… well, I wanted to talk- we need to talk." 

He sat down across from me, resetting the pieces once more so we could play a game. 

"Talk about what?" I apathetically mumbled. 

"You know." 

I moved one of my pieces forward, defending my position. 

I sighed, nodding my head. 

"I know." 

He moved his knight forward. An aggressive play was made. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

I defended my position once more, keeping my pieces intact. 

Once again, Dream made another pushy move. 

"I was… I messed up- we both messed up. I… I shouldn't care so much." 

"About what?" I asked. 

He looked up for the first time in the game. 

"About what they'd say about me. About us. About you." 

I hesitated as I made another move, which in retrospect was horrible because with the right eye, it could be seen as a weakness in my defense. 

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you. You need time… I can't just push you like that," I mumbled. 

"Perhaps," he continued. "But I think if I ever wanted us to be real, then I should have been more willing to come out."

_ Tick- _

Another move was made. 

"Did you want it?" 

"Hmm?"

"Did you want us to be real?" 

He looked up from the board for a quick glance towards me before he returned attention to the metal pieces before us. 

"Of course." 

I made my next move in complete confidence, slightly distracted by the weight of everything Dream had laid onto me. 

"What would you do differently?" I asked with uncertainty. "I mean, if we were still together." 

A smirk broke the slight frown on his face as he said, "I wouldn't hold back- I'd show them what I really feel." 

"... And what is it that you feel, Clay?" 

He looked up at the sudden mention of his real name. 

"I love George Davidson. That's how I feel."

I looked up to see the boy sat in front of me. I placed down my piece, not concentrated on the board or the game anymore; the only thing on my mind was what he just said. He  _ loved  _ me. 

It would be a lie, a flat out lie, if I said I didn't feel the same way. 

It was always hard for me to tell people my emotions, or even express them. Most often I came off as apathetic or uninterested. 

I just found it hard because I never had situations in which I had to express them. There was no reason to express them if I had no one to express them to. 

But there was one exception; and that was what I had said next. 

"I… I love you too, Clay." 

He froze in place, slowly lifting his head up to meet my gaze. 

Tears formed in my eyes as I finally said it; I  _ loved  _ him. 

He set down another piece, staring at me with his mouth partially open. Soon enough, his lips curled into an uncertain smile; one that told me he had no idea that this was how the situation was going to turn out. 

I lowered my gaze to the game, pretending to focus on it when in reality I was focused on anything else but the chess match. 

"So what does this mean? For us?" I asked slowly, testing my words. 

I made another move, honestly wishing the game would just end already. 

"I want to try again," he answered. "But this time, I want to act like your boyfriend. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I don't want to worry you. I want us to be boyfriend and boyfriend, and fuck… I want the whole WORLD to know that I love George Davidson!" 

He looked up to me, to which I returned the eye contact. 

His small smile faltered, his lips parting ever-so-slightly. 

We both leaned in over the table, our faces inches apart. 

"I want to try again too…" I whispered, only centimeters away from kissing him. 

His eyes flickered down as he made one final move on the board. 

"And that's checkmate, baby." 

I backed away from our almost-kiss to scan the board- it was, in fact, a checkmate. 

"You're insufferable. Truly, insufferable," I exclaimed, falling back into my chair. 

He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. He caught sight of my annoyance, walking over to me and pulling me up. 

"I'm sorry…" he purred, his hands finding a place on either side of my waist. 

I cracked a smile against my own free will, lazily resting my arms on both of his shoulders respectively. 

"I know," I whispered with a smirk. 

He pulled me in, placing a soft, emotional kiss on my lips. Nothing was lost in translation between us both as we conveyed our emotions through physical means. 

As our lips unfortunately parted, I caught the look that Dream had given me- one of compassion, thankfulness. No one had ever looked at me the same way he did, and I'm sure no one ever will. 

Day by day, we encountered conflicts together that others would never dream of; I'm sure that we would face even more, as the world seemed to like to throw them at us. 

  
Even if it was just Dream and I versus the world,  _ I wouldn't have it any other way.  _


	25. 24|Bring On The Demons|

**Dream's POV**

After a few more games of chess, both George and I had to part ways. 

"Do you really have to go?" George asked against the surface of my sweater, dragging out the "go". 

I kissed the top of his head, resting my chin on top of it. 

"I made a promise to be there by three George," I softly stated, pulling his chin up to lock eyes. "I'll see you soon angel, okay?" 

He smiled, replying, "Okay… love you!" 

"I love you too."

I gave him one last kiss on the cheek before finally making my way to my truck. 

Quickly, I texted Tommy I was on my way before leaving Nick and George's house. 

\---

"Hey Tommy!" I yelled from the other side of the field, jogging over to the blond haired boy sitting on the bleachers. 

Tommy was just finishing tying the laces on his cleats, and perked his head up at the sound of my voice calling for him. He took one of his earbuds out and nodded with a small smile.

“Hey, Clay!”

I took off my own shoes and put my cleats on next to him, apologizing, "Sorry I'm a bit late, I was… busy," I smiled softly. 

“Busy being a simp, I see,” He teased with a glint of mischief in his eye. “What a fucking simp you are, Clay. It’s sickening.”

"What? How would you even know what I was doing," I laughed lightly, tying the laces on my cleats. 

“Oh come on, I spent nearly a month sitting alone at lunch. I spent a lot of time reading people to know what they were thinking. You’ve got like this… Disgusting lovestruck look in your eyes. It’s gross and weird, you’re a simp.” 

"Shut up," I responded lightheartedly. "You're just jealous that you can't be like me."

“Right,” he responded sarcastically. “Because my entire life’s goal is to be just like Clay Anderson. Totally jealous of you, yeah.”

"It should be," I sat down on the bench next to him. "If I was you, I'd want to be me too. But if you must insist, I was talking to George earlier…" 

“And you made up, planned to come out, and kissed him. Story is over, predictable! Let’s go, Big Man. I want to make shots before kicking your ass in a 1v1.”

I scoffed, watching as he dipped out onto the field with a soccer ball at his feet. 

_ This child,  _ I thought to myself, finding the name of "child" better suiting him than the one of "teen". 

I followed right behind him, catching up to him as he had stopped in front of the goal. 

"Are you gonna make some shots or just stand there?" I teased, watching as he lined himself up midway on the field. 

“I can’t make shots without a goalie, dickhead,” he teased in return. “Either do your job, or quit early and hand the title down.”

"Whatever,  _ child, _ " I retorted, finding my place in front of the goal. 

“Call me a child again, and I will stab you in your sleep!”

"Point taken!" I replied. "So are you going to shoot or just stand there?" 

Tommy took a few minutes, actually, to calm himself down from the banter and focus. The tension in his shoulders was pretty evident; a setback in playing. The watching was still getting to him.

Nevertheless, he made his first shot after glancing all over for an open shot.

With elegance, the ball landed in the net. I retrieved it, mumbling to myself, "Whatever," before returning it to Tommy.

Even with the tenseness he exhibited throughout his shooting session, he was able to land a few more perfect shots. 

The shots being successful were a false sense of triumph. If only the world was predictable, or someone could’ve told Tommy to keep his guard up on this new anxiety of his. Just because he made these shots, doesn’t mean he was over it.

He was hyping himself up, based strictly on the tension he shook off after the shots were made. 

"Are you ready to get poned?" I joked, kicking the ball to him. 

“God, you’re so old!” He groaned, stopping the ball with his left foot. “I’m going to destroy you. Bring it on, Old Man!”

"At least I'm not a child!" I remarked before finding my place in front of him. 

“I’m not a fucking child! You dick!”

"Sure," I laughed. "3… 2… 1… go!" 

We both took off for the ball, but unfortunately for Tommy, I was still faster than him. With diligence, I extracted the ball from his grasp, kicking it along with me as I made good time across the field. Tommy followed strictly behind me, hoping I would slip up. 

Quickly, I kicked the ball, landing into the net with no hesitation. 

"Good game!" I said, kicking the ball back to the middle. 

“Yeah, yeah… Lucky shot,” Tommy grumbled under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t over yet.”

"I'm sure it will be soon," I replied.

Once again I counted off, but this time Tommy found a weakness in my strategy that he could exploit; instead of going directly for the ball, he waited for me to get the ball so that way he could try and steal it from me. I had left myself open as I tried to strafe around him, with no luck. Tommy quickly took the ball, dashing down the field at a quick pace. I tried to follow behind, but before I could catch up, he had already kicked it into the net with smooth succession. 

"Good job," I mumbled. 

Another false sense of confidence fell onto his tense shoulders. Another time of hyping himself up because of a shot.

He’s trying to pretend he’s not stressed.

“Told you,” He quipped. “This isn’t over, until I say it’s over.”

"We'll see about that, won't we?" I smirked, finding my place in front of the ball once more. 

The third and final round started really normal. Once again, Tommy used the exploit in my play style to his advantage and took the ball, running with it as soon as he got his hands on it. It seemed like the game would turn out like the last one, with Tommy making the shot and winning by one.

But I decided to switch things up a bit this time.

I immediately went over to the goal, and began to play goalie. With any luck, I’d be able to stop the ball from making it through, and I’d be able to redeem his point.

I wasn’t exactly expecting to “win” the game because of a frozen panic.

I knew, the moment Tommy’s shoulders tensed to uncomfortable positions and he froze on the field, that he got himself stuck in his head. He’s listening to that nagging voice in the back of his mind, telling him  _ you’re not good enough. You won’t make the shot, you’re going to lose. You aren’t good enough. _

I forgot about the game, focusing primarily on Tommy who had fallen to the ground. As I got closer, I noticed how shaky he was and how his breathing seemed labored. I quickly dropped down next to him, asking, "What's wrong?" 

I don't know why I bothered asking when I already knew the answer; I asked anyways, hoping he would elaborate on how he was feeling. 

He flinched at the feeling on my hand being lightly on his back. He had devolved into nothing but a ball, his head on his knees with his arms wrapped tightly around his shins. 

“I… I- You…” He stuttered, searching for words that would be somewhat comprehensible. He ended up reciting, “I’m not good enough…”

"What? No, yes you are! You beat me last game!" I reassured. "You're really good Tommy, you can't keep… devaluing… yourself like that."

“You’re looking for the fuck ups… You’re watching to judge me…”

"No I'm not Tommy… I could care less if you lost, I would still think you are one of the best on the team. That goes without a doubt in my mind."

“You-You keep beating me!” He snapped. The anger wasn’t focused on me, however. It was aimed at himself. “If I’m so good, why do you keep beating me? I can’t- I can’t!”

I sighed, explaining, "Because you managed to exploit my strategy, and you almost won- if we continued to play, I'm sure you could've won. I know it would sound egotistical of me to say that I am the best soccer player on the team, but I am. You got super close; that's really good! Impressive, even."

“I shouldn’t keep losing to you. Stupid fucking mistakes I shouldn’t be making are costing me each and every game. I keep fucking up, because I’m not as good as you claim I am. I’m not that good. I shouldn’t even be getting mad at you watching for the ball! It’s so fucking-dare I say it-childish!”

"Tommy…" I started. "It's not childish- your feelings, they're valid. If… if you're feeling… kind of anxious about all of this… maybe you should see someone about it." 

“I’m not going to fucking therapy,” He grumbled. “I’m not crazy. I just need to- to get over it.”

"And you will! It's okay to need help," I stated reassuringly. "I know that it's not your skill that's costing you the games; there is something else holding you back. I can see it every time we play."

“You didn’t go to therapy,” he muttered. “Being alone didn’t permanently screw you over.”

"Everyone deals with situations differently. You can't just rely on what I was feeling when I went through that rough patch with my old friends. It's unfair to me, and most importantly, unfair to you."

“Oh yeah? And why not? We dealt with the exact same shit from people.”

"Because… we are different people Tommy! Yes, we went through similar situations, but at the core we are different people. You have said it yourself countless times, that we are different," I explained. 

“That’s different. You have an inflated ego. This is trauma we’re talking about. Trauma sprouting from the same situation. It should be the same.” 

I looked off into grass, finding the right words I wanted to use. 

"Perhaps my inflated ego is because of what happened… maybe that's just how I coped with it… but people cope in different ways with a multitude of different things. Like… I have ADHD and I do things differently from someone else who has ADHD- like my stimming is different from… oh Techno! He has ADHD… he often fidgets with different things around him, while I have voice stims." 

“But… That’s not a traumatic experience…” He mumbled, confusion seeping its way into his voice. “They’re different situations...” 

"Well, you're right… but that's not the point I'm trying to make. The point I'm trying to make is, it's alright Tommy… it's alright to need help. Everyone does at some point, really. No one is perfect." 

“It’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, before continuing, “I… I created this issue for myself… I wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t done what I did… Why should I make someone listen to me talk about how shitty I am once a week, when this was a problem I caused myself?”

I smiled lightly as I said, "You might have caused the problem, but everyone makes mistakes- all the time, even. No one who goes to therapy is perfect, why else would they be in therapy? I think instead of shooting down the idea of therapy, you should really consider it." 

“But it’s my fault,” he muttered, in his harsh, self-critical tone. “I deserve this, it’s karma for what happened.”

"Screw karma. You shouldn't just accept it- you're Tommy! The Tommy I know would never settle for less." 

“I just… Can’t see someone wanting to listen to my problems. Nobody seemed to care before, why would they now? I’m Tommy, just like you said. Whose reputation is the carefree, strong one. Nothing bothers Tommy. Why should it now?”

"Of course they would listen to your problems," I half joked, "You do pay them to listen… but seriously. You don't have to go do it, I'm not requiring you to do it to stay on the team, but I think as a friend rather than your captain, you should at least try it."

Tommy fell silent, using the band of his smartwatch to fidget with while he thought about the idea. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, but nodded and said, “I guess I’m going to therapy…” 

"Yay!" I cheered, "Tommy is going to therapy!" We fell into another bout of silence, Tommy still fidgeting with his watchband. 

"But, if you do ever need to talk, I'm willing to talk whenever," I added. 

“But it isn’t your problem-”

"Shut up, I don't want to hear you say that again. I want you to talk to me, alright? About anything."

Tommy fell into another round of silence, conjuring his sentence carefully. “Do you think… Maybe… This could become a regular thing? Only until the season starts, that is. But… A regular meeting, for practices, or just to talk, something?”

I thought about it for a second, before answering, "I don't see why not… I do like the idea of beating a child at soccer every week."

“I am not a fucking child, you dickhead. How many times am I going to tell you that on this day alone?” 

I laughed, replying "As long as it takes for you to realize that you are one." 

“I hope you said your final goodbyes to George. He’s going to find you with a stab wound tomorrow morning. You’ll be dead. By the great Tommy.”

"Too bad, I guess he'll have to find someone else," I joked. "'Killed by his soccer teammate, Tommy'- do you think that would look good on my tombstone?"

“So long as I get permission to add ‘He was also in the Chess Club. What an egotistical Egghead.’”

I chuckled, shaking my head. 

I looked up to the sky, noticing the orange and pink hues that lit it up. It was coming to sunset. 

"I had fun," I said. 

“I did, too. Kinda. It was fun until I couldn’t breathe.”

"I'm glad you had 'kind of' fun’ then." 

I stood up, brushing the grass off of my pants. 

"I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Tommy nodded, standing up on his own. “Yeah, tomorrow. Should be… Interesting, I guess. The guessing game begins, of who is sitting where for Lunch.”

I shrugged, suggesting, "You could sit with me, and so could Wilbur."

“Wilbur probably will. He and George are best friends; he’d definitely want to sit with his best friend. There’s two flaws with me, though. One, I’m not an Elite, and two, half that table hates my guts on a normal basis. By half, I mean Nick.”

"Oh I can take care of that," I playfully winked, patting him on the shoulder. "See you at the lunch table!" 

And with that, our second session came to a close. 

As I rode home in my truck, I thought back on all of the times I was ever rude to Tommy. I believed he was stuck up, and insufferable to be around; it turns out, he only needed someone to be there for him-he was a decent kid, after all. 

I smiled. 

_ I'm glad that could be me. _


	26. 25|Back To Normal; Well Almost|

**George's POV**

I started to fidget with my hands, watching as Dream took the usual route to school- make the first left, second right, third left and so on. Right at that moment, he was making the second right. 

On top of the pressure of walking into school with Dream, no holding back from the PDA, the chess club had a meeting that day because of the competition the next day. I was so distracted with everything that was happening with Techno, Dream, and Tommy that I had little to no time to actually practice. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, interrupting the fidgeting of my hands by placing his own in the middle of them. 

"Yeah I'm just… are you sure?" 

"... about what?" 

"About this?" I asked, lifting our hands up and placing them back down on the middle console. 

"I am confident, George. So, so confident," he smirked, making the last turn into the school. 

He parked in his usual spot which was close to the front doors of the school; There were no assigned parking spaces, but for some reason everyone just filed into a particular spot. Of course, Dream got the first pick of his space. 

"Are you ready?" He asked, giving my hand a small squeeze. 

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, pulling our hands apart to exit the car. 

Dream grabbed both of our bags, insisting, "I'll carry it, don't worry." 

"If you insist," I laughed, leaning into him slightly as I entangled our hands together. 

Even if we were in such a public space, it felt so  _ natural  _ to grab his hand- to just be with him. 

"Let's go." 

With little hesitation, we burst through the doors of the building, not giving a single fuck about some of the looks we were getting from other students. I didn't care, and from the looks of it, neither did Dream. He looked perfectly content- overwhelmingly happy, might I add. 

"This way," I directed him to my locker with a slight tug to his hand. 

He happily complied, following along with me. I noticed Techno at his own locker not too far away from my own. My smile faltered into a frown as he looked over to us, and started to walk over to us. 

"What are you doing, Techno? If you touch George I will not hesitate-" 

"Calm down, I'm not here to mess with you guys- rather, I wanted to… I wanted to…" his thoughts trailed off as he crossed his arms. 

Slowly, he continued, "to apologize. What I did, it was unforgivable, and I almost killed you… I… I don't deserve to be talking to you right now."

Before I could add my thoughts, he continued, "I don't want to be friends… and I'm sure you don't want to either. Just… neutral. I won't mess with you, you won't mess with me." 

I looked over to Dream, who still had a slight edge in the way his eyes bore into Techno. 

Honestly, he did beat me up, and he probably released the picture since Tommy didn't; did he really deserve forgiveness? 

Short answer was, no. Was I going to continue this petty and stupid rivalry though? 

Also a no. 

"Techno, Dave- I… I don't think I can really… forgive you. But I do think that keeping us on neutral terms is a good idea. I don't want to keep this stupid rivalry… it didn't even need to exist in the first place!" I laughed lightly, remembering how stupid our rivalry really was. "Although thank you. For your willingness to apologize." 

He nodded slowly, taking in my words and processing them. 

"Alright… I'll see you in Physics, then." He said softly (perhaps the softest I had ever heard him). "Also… you guys look…  _ good _ … together." 

I could hear the physical strain and how hard it was for him to say it, but it still meant quite a bit because Techno was known for his hardened exterior. Before Techno left, Dream grabbed his shoulder, saying, "Wait." 

Techno turned around, humming in response. 

"The tournament is tomorrow- for chess. I think you should be there, and for the chess club meeting tonight. I think…" he looked back to me for some sort of permission, to which I nodded. "I think we messed up by kicking you out. So if you're willing, would you come back?" 

Techno thought about it, giving a small smile as he replied, "Sure." 

Dream smirked. 

"See you, then." 

Techno nodded, turning back around to return to his locker which Phil stood in front of now. Phil looked at us, giving us a small wave which I returned with uncertainty.

The bell rang, calling for everyone to make their way to their first class of the morning. Dream grabbed my books, saying, "Let's go!" 

"But you haven't even put away your stuff Dream, you don't have to carry my stuff," I replied lightly, walking side by side with him to my physics class. 

"I know… but my teachers don't really care when I'm late," he explained simply. 

"Oh yeah. I forgot- you're THE Clay Anderson, most important soccer player to EVER come out of this high school!" I teased, holding my hand up to my forehead dramatically. "I can't believe I forgot my boyfriend, the guy I am in love with, is so amazing!" 

People around us started to glare at our antics, but unlike any other time before we broke up, he didn't care. Instead, he said, "I know! I am pretty great. You're so lucky." 

I took my stuff, giving him a small kiss goodbye before entering my next class. 

"Love you," I said nonchalantly. 

"Love you more," he replied, giving me one last kiss on the top of the head before walking to his own class. 

I smiled, bounding into my first class with what felt like clouds on my feet. Nothing could beat the feeling that Dream left me with; one of pure contentment and felicity unlike anything I had ever felt before with another human. An unfiltered, unadulterated love. 

\---

Dream carried my food tray to his usual lunch table; he was actually so extra. 

"Dreammm stop being so extra," I giggled, sitting down next to him. 

"To be fair, I'm not being extra, I'm just being a good boyfriend," he beamed at me. 

"Look, it's Gogy and his dream!" Wilbur teased, sitting down at the table, across from us. "Looks like the two of you got to talk. Congrats, Dream. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you Wilbur… if it wasn't for you and Tommy, I don't think I could have done it," he chuckled lightly. 

"Did Tommy not want to sit here?" I asked, searching the cafeteria for the blond. 

Wilbur flicked his gaze to his old lunch table. "I tried. He's adamant that he doesn't belong here."

Dream sighed, mumbling, "I told him he could sit here- I wanted him to sit here." 

Dream looked genuinely disappointed; I felt a bit bad for him. 

"Why?" Nick asked, seating himself next to Dream, with Karl basically attached to his side. "He doesn't need to sit here." 

"Nick, stop," Karl said in a slightly serious tone. "Tommy apologized." 

"Yeah? He still did a lot of dumb shit." 

"Just give him a chance, Nick. Please," Dream pleaded with his best friend. 

"I really tried this morning. We talked about it on the walk here. Tommy is held bent on keeping a divide. He says he doesn't want to blend two groups that don't belong together," Wilbur commented. "I didn't bother arguing with him. We've argued enough the last few weeks."

"We all know how Tommy is," I muttered. "Once he decides on something, he keeps it that way. It's hard to change his mind, unless you force him to. It's been like that since we were young." 

"He's also been really hard on himself the last few years," Wilbur mumbled. "He doesn't understand the concept of self-forgiveness."

Dream's face lit up; he had an idea. 

"Let's just sit with him. He can't just escape us that easily," he simply suggested. 

"I vote Clay goes first, and the rest follow suit if he does absolutely nothing," Wilbur challenged. "If we all go at once, it'll stress him out."

"Sure," Dream said. "I'll see you in a second angel," he cooed to me softly. 

Why did he have to be so embarrassing in front of our friends? I thought he'd just hold my hand or something along those lines; not say stuff like  _ that.  _

My face lit up as he kissed the top of my head. 

**Dream's POV**

"I hope it's alright Jimmy," I said. 

"Yeah…" he stopped before he continued, "I understand that… There is a division in our group. I should respect the division- We will still be there for you tomorrow though for the tournament!"

I nod, adding, "Thank you!" 

"You better bring your A-game tomorrow," Chris challenged. "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't get into the top three."

I laughed lightly, replying, "You know I do. Always." 

"Bye Dream!" Chandler added, waving to me. 

I turned, approaching Tommy, who was watching something on his phone. I set my tray down, sitting across from him. I looked back to the rest of the group, who was very obviously staring at us but trying to conceal it. 

"Why aren't you sitting with us?" I asked.

He took out his earbuds hesitantly, looking up to me. 

"I told you yesterday," He said quietly. "I don't belong there."

"Why? Why doesn't the future captain of the soccer team not belong there?" I asked, crossing my arms. 

"There's such a thing as a social divide here. I'm Tommy, the newfound school loner who doesn't have friends. You're Clay, the king of the Elites." 

"Didn't you tell me before it was just titles?" I asked, taking a sip from my water bottle. "Also, if I'm the so-called 'king', then shouldn't I be able to bend the 'rules'?" 

"Who was it that told me we're different people?" He shot back. Clearly, he'd thought quickly on that one. "We're treated differently."

I leaned forward some, meeting eye contact with Tommy. 

"And why does it have to be that way? Since when do you conform to the social standards? Just because we are different, it doesn't mean we have to be treated as such."

"Since I fucked everything up for myself. There's a reason I belong in isolation. You all ruined it the first time. I tried to isolate, and you dragged me out of the woods."

I fell back into my chair, crossing my arms once again. 

"And it's been forgiven! Is that what you want to hear? I forgive you Tommy. Stop… stop making everything harder than it has to be. If not for yourself, then for me. For George. For your own brother!" 

"I made your lives difficult. It's only fair I make my own life a living nightmare. If it was only one of you, that'd be one thing. But I hurt multiple people at the same time. I have to compensate for that."

I scoffed, replying, "And where did you get this idea from? Because surely, I don't think that way, and I'm sure George feels the same too. If I'm being honest, you helped us. I mean, look at where we are now, George and I. We are able to come here, and not care what other people think. Before that, I was way too scared to even be seen with him."

Tommy hesitated this time. "...I just gave you some advice."

"...And you took that photo! Do you see what I'm trying to say now? Without the photo, without your advice… I'm not sure George and I would be in the place we are now." 

"I'm sure you two would never have split up to begin with. If I had stayed out of it, you'd be fine."

"Not… not exactly," I mumbled. "George… he didn't want to hide anymore. I'm sure that if we were still hidden, we wouldn't be in such a good place right now- if anything, he might have got tired of the way I was acting with him! Sure I'd be fine… but I wouldn't have gained your friendship and I wouldn't have been able to be as open as I am now."

"And my friendship is important… Why? We weren't ever friends before, and you lived just fine without me."

"So? Why does that mean I can't make another friend, just because I was fine before? Tommy, I find you really fun to be around," I admitted genuinely. 

“Fun. What would you know about fun? Your humor is equivalent to that of an eighty-year-old man’s humor. It’s dry as hell, you boring, egotistical blond bitch,” He teased, a small smirk growing as he spoke.

"Ah, and he returns!" I laughed, uncrossing my arms. "I don't like the other Tommy, this one is much better."

“Well, neither Tommy likes you, so suffer. Deal with it, someone actually doesn’t like you. How does that make you feel, Old Man?”

"It doesn't make me feel anything," I scoffed in a lighthearted manner. "Because I know the truth- what was it you said to me yesterday? 'Oh Clay, can we hang out more often, I just love you!'" 

“Ha! Aren’t you just so funny! When did I say ‘I love you’ to you? I’d like video proof.”

"Hmm, well I don't have that, but I know that's exactly what you meant yesterday," I laughed. 

“Yeah, no, I hate you. I hate you, and your stupid life.”

"Too bad, I guess you're just stuck with me," I smirked. 

I turned behind me, motioning for the others to join us. 

Soon enough, the table became packed with Nick, Karl, George, Wilbur, Tommy and I. A stark contrast to what it once was like when school first started that year. 

Tommy’s gaze was pretty focused on Nick, the tension forming in his shoulders coinciding with the tension between them. 

“...You too?”

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Nick joked. "If Dream and George are fine with you, then I guess I should learn to be… nicer." 

“You really don’t have to. If you don’t want to be here, I’m not stopping you from leaving.”

"I'm good. Just chill dude," he nonchalantly threw his arm over Karl's shoulders pulling him closer. 

“Yeah… Chill… With an entire table of Elites around me. Definitely that easy,” Tommy muttered sarcastically.

George scoffed and added, "I am definitely not an 'Elite' either, or whatever, so that makes two of us." 

“Give me a break, you’re dating Clay. You might as well be at this point.”

"So?" He said. "Do I look like I'd be an Elite? I am definitely not one. Besides, who said you weren't one now, either?" 

“I’m not. Never have been, never will be. I’m not on that level.”

"You always depreciate yourself, just give it a rest and enjoy lunch while we have it," I replied dismissively. 

“I don’t depreciate myself. I speak the truth.”

"Sure you don't," George added softly, leaning into my shoulder. 

“I don’t. I would know, wouldn’t I?”

"You're always so hard on yourself, why don't you just chill?" Nick piped in, fiddling with the food on his plate. 

“I’m not hard on myself, you’re all crazy-” 

“I must be crazy then, too,” Wilbur commented. “Because you’ve done that for years now. Ever since you started playing soccer, you’ve been really hard on yourself. Anything wrong on your part makes you really angry at yourself.”

"I can attest to that," I commented. "I mean, look what happened yesterday." 

“What happened yesterday?” Wilbur asked, turning to Tommy, who had grimaced. 

“I wasn’t telling him that, Clay. You dickhead.”

"Nothing happened yesterday, Wilbur- but come on Tommy, you know what I'm trying to say."

“Why can’t I-”   
  


“Shut up, Wilbur,” Tommy muttered. “Nothing happened yesterday. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"Forget I said anything," I decided to say. "Look, we aren't leaving Tommy, you're stuck with us," I stated with a small smile. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Whatever you say, Anderson.”

"Good," I smiled, fiddling with George's hand which laid on my left leg. 

I turned my head to look at George, who looked up to me with a soft smile. He leaned into my shoulder, resting his head on it. 

“God, he’s so damn weird,” Tommy quipped. 

I looked down to George, who was thrown into a laughing fit by Tommy's remark. 

_ God, he's so damn cute.  _

\---

**George's POV**

Unfortunately, I was forced to walk alone to the chess club meeting because Dream said he had something to do; he also said he probably wouldn't be able to make it. Hesitantly, I decided to go anyway, just because one of the presidents had to go to keep order; Bad wasn't exactly that good at pushing people around, even though he was technically next in the command chain. 

I was also alone because the other chess club members were nowhere to be seen; not even Techno, who usually showed up later than everyone else (to keep that mysterious barrier up, I suppose). 

I pushed the familiar library doors open, confused by the sight in front of me. It was all of the members who were usually there, but then, Tommy was there, along with Wilbur. All of them were standing, and Dream held a large poster board, bright blue letters scribbled onto it lackadaisical-like. 

'Will you go to prom with me, Gogy?'

I held my hands up to my face, similar to what a person would do if they were getting proposed to. I gave Wilbur a quick glare, mostly because I KNEW he gave Dream the nickname that he usually called me. It was probably his idea to put it on the board to begin with. 

All Wilbur returned, was a mischievous smirk.

"So, will you?" Dream asked.

Everyone stayed silent as I felt a redness become evident on my cheeks. I didn't like the fact everyone was staring at me, even if they were all my friends (or at least acquaintances on decent terms). My hands started to shake as I dropped them from my face, joking, "Prom isn't for another couple of months, you idiot." 

His smile faltered, but I continued, "But, yes, I will go with you, Dream." 

Everyone cheered, throwing up their arms. Some people threw streamers, while some others just stood to the sidelines (AKA Tommy and Techno, who would've rather leaned against the wall with their arms crossed). 

Dream dropped the board to the side, dashing up to me. I laughed as he picked me up and spun me around, taking advantage of the massive height difference he had on me. 

I tuned out all of the chatter from the people around us as Dream put me down, maintaining a soft eye contact with me. I was hyper focused on the blond in front of me. All I could think about what him- the way his lips turned upwards into a pretty smirk, or how the straw colored locks atop his head hung in front of his eyes which shined a deep, playful yellow, (although I've been told countless times they were green). I forgot about how annoying it would be to clean up pieces of streamers once again, or how we had an upcoming tournament. 

I was focused; focused on leaning forward, focused on locking our lips together in a temporary moment of defining passion. So that's exactly what I did. 

The room around us spun as we both pulled away, subjected to the party around us.

Wilbur, who was standing to the side, nodded our way with a smile, saying, “Congrats, guys. It’s about time you two do something like this.”

“Yeah, holy shit, I thought you two would be pining forever,” Tommy added, in his usual lighthearted, sarcastic tone.

I laughed at his banter, commenting, "Thank you Wilbur, Tommy."

Bad interrupted us, asking, "Did you guys want cake? I made it this morning!" 

I laughed, looking up to Dream who was holding me loosely against his chest. He replied, "Of course Bad, you always make such good cake!" 

"Aw, thank you," He replied, cutting it the best he could with a plastic knife. 

We all basically forgot that we had a big tournament the next day; we were too caught up in just having a party, basically. It seemed like that's all we had really been doing for the past few meetings… 

Nonetheless, I still enjoyed it. I decided that being with my friends--the people I adored most--was more important to me than preparing for a tournament. It was unfortunate that Nick or Karl couldn't make it, but they promised me that they would be there for the tournament for the very next day. 

In reality, it wasn't the actual tournament that worried me. It was the fact I could potentially disappoint those around me. 

I looked to Dream, and then to some of my other friends such as Wilbur, and recently Tommy. 

_ What would they think of me? _


	27. 26|Cuddles By A Water Fountain|

_!!(A/N)!!: I am aware that Karl is taller than Sapnap, but for this fanfic, he is shorter (just because that’s how I want it, sue me).  _

**George’s POV**

Once again, Dream and I were to clean up everything while everyone else left, claiming they had something “important to do”. Speaking of Dream, he had become so very important to me within the span of so many weeks. It wasn’t until he made up with me and showed me how willing he was to go all in with the relationship did I realize how extremely lucky I had been up to that point. The flurry of emotions that racked my chest everytime I even looked at my boyfriend was unrivaled to anything else. 

“We always get stuck cleaning!” I complained, sighing as I threw a plate into the trash. 

Dream collapsed into one of the wooden library chairs, humming in agreement before replying, “Well, we are the president and vice president, and it was MY idea to do this whole thing.”

“So why do I have to clean?” I whined, plopping down onto Dream’s lap while wrapping my arms around his neck loosely. 

I buried my head into his chest; he smelled like sandalwood mixed with a synthetic beach sent. A light smile spread across my face as I revelled in the scent; if anyone else was to smell the way he did, I would claim it was overbearing or too much. The scent fit Dream perfectly, so I found myself liking it even more than I thought I would based on past experiences. 

“Because,” his tone lowered as he set his chin onto the top of my head, “you love me, Georgie.”

I chuckled lightly, mumbling into his signature lime green hoodie, “if it makes you feel better.”

“Why do you always have such a hard time expressing emotions?’ Dream wondered softly, his voice a few octaves lower than usual. 

Although it was a lighthearted backhanded comment, it was still a valid question. I was never really one to outwardly tell people I  _ loved  _ them unless it was in certain circumstances. Nor, did I feel the need to. Dream kind of dissolved my wall separating my emotions from others, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t put it up at times to avoid the feeling of discomfiture I got whenever I was put into a situation relating to my emotions or how I was feeling. 

“I… I don’t…” 

“You do,” he laughed lightly. “But it’s fine if you aren’t comfortable. I won’t force you to say anything that you won’t want to- or do anything you don’t want to.”

Silence fell between us as we sat together in that library. He swayed back and forth lightly, holding me in his arms. I hesitantly replied, “I… I think I just… I’ve never really been in the position where I could… share… my emotions.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I sighed, explaining, “After everything that had happened back in London, I kept to myself for… a long long time. I think… the only real person I talked to about emotions was… therapy?”

Dream nodded against the top of my head, signalling that he was listening to me. 

“It’s like… it’s like I was kind of… on some sort of autopilot? I just forgot about my emotions, and all I focused on was… other people- my mom specifically. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, it’s probably stupid,” I laughed lightly against his chest. 

“No, it’s not… I think your feelings are valid George,” Dream said in a nurturing tone.

“I think that… I don’t know that I’m just… floating through life and then I’ll get moments where it all just slams down onto me; everything that had happened. I eventually learned to just… get over it. I… I never really had anyone to talk to before that wasn’t just a therapist. And Dream… I… I  _ love  _ you, and I know you know that but I just feel so guilty for finding it hard to say.”

“I want you to promise me George, promise me that you’ll tell me everything you are feeling from now on.”

I replied, “But-”

“But what? I will always be there to listen to you. And you talk to you. Because I want to know how you are doing, and I want you to feel like you have someone to talk to. I don’t want you to hold back anymore,” he explained. 

“I… I promise, Dream.”

I smiled into his chest, wrapping my arms around his midsection, hugging him. 

“Good, because I love you, George. And I know that you feel the same way about me… I don’t want you to feel like that you’re forced to say it to me- that you love me.”

I hummed lightly, finding his voice extremely comforting- even the way he stuttered in his words. It was adorable in a strange sense, because I knew that everytime he stuttered he was excited about the topic he was talking about. It was one of the quirks that I absolutely adored when it came to the taller. 

I drifted off into my thoughts, closing my eyes. In a weird way, Dream’s narcissism paired well with me being the complete opposite because he never doubted himself, and he never doubted me. He knew I loved him; in his mind, why wouldn’t I? He was perfect. 

He shook me slightly, informing me, “Nick and Karl want to go on a double date with us… did you want to go?”

“But I’m so comfortable…” I whined, gripping onto the back of his hoodie. 

“As much as I would love to sit here with you in the school library all night,” he smirked, pulling me from him to look into my eyes, his finger resting lightly on the bottom of my chin. “I think that maybe we should go with them… to take our minds off of the competition tomorrow.” 

I shrugged, nodding apathetically. As long as he wanted to go, I would too. 

His finger forced my chin upwards as he closed the gap of space between us. My knuckles turned white as I grasped his hoodie even tighter, allowing all of the unspoken emotions to flow through me and to Dream. He let out a shaky exhale when we pulled away, a smirk ghosting the corners of his lips as he gave me one last chaste kiss on my right cheek. 

“Are you ready?” He asked in a half-whisper. 

“Uhm… yeah!” I replied awkwardly. 

Slowly, I rose from where I was on Dream’s lap, my hand entangling with his as soon as he stood. 

“Do you even know what we’re doing?” I asked, looking at the taller boy to my side. 

“Yeah…”

I waited for him to finish his thought, but all he did was smile and continue to drag me along with him through the school. 

“So?” I motioned with my hand, waiting for him to tell me.

“How do you feel about laser tag, Georgie?”

\---

After a short five minute drive to the laser tag place, we both met with Karl and Nick who were standing by the entrance, waiting for us. Karl noticed us, dropping Nick’s hand from his own while yelling, “You guys are dog water, your weiners are built exactly like Tic-Tacs; you guys are NOT going to beat us.”

He laughed, clapping his hands. I shook my head, embarrassed because people were glaring at Karl who was being very loud. Nick joined Karl's laugh, adding, “We are gonna box you both like a fish!” 

Dream smiled, tapping into his usually cocky, competitive nature. He replied, “Sure, but just remember who is the captain of the soccer team; I’m obviously gonna be better than you at this, I’m more athletic.” 

“Any… any askers?” Karl replied, pretending to search around. 

“Me, actually!” I smiled. “I’m the one who asked- we are going to beat you.”

“Whatever you say George,” Nick laughed. “Let’s go then.”

Dream pulled me along with him as we all entered the laser tag arena which didn’t have anyone, other than the depressed employees who sat on their phones at the counter. 

“Hello! Can we get four, for the laser tag?” Dream asked. 

I looked around, watching as Nick and Karl stood back, whispering while giggling into each other's ears. Sometimes they acted exactly like young school girls. Usually, Nick was a lot more chill and the same could be said for Karl, but as soon as they were paired together, they were definitely the loudest in the group. They brought out each other's traits; in a way, it was adorable (until they started getting too over the top). 

Soon, the guy manning the counter brought us to the entrance of the laser tag arena and started to drone on about the rules, explaining that if we broke any we were going to get kicked out and this and that. All of us were too busy putting on the vests signifying our teams rather than actually listening to the worker. Dream and I were blue, while Nick and Karl picked the color orange. 

After the worker gave up explaining the rules to us, they opened the door, allowing us to get in position on opposite sides of the laser arena. Dream yelled, “You guys are actually done for, George and I are going to win this EASY!”

I laughed, enjoying the sight of Dream’s overly-competitive nature. 

“You guys are trash!” I yelled over, hearing them shout nonsense back to us. 

Dream quickly turned to me before the game began, commanding, “Okay baby, stand over there and I’ll stand over here. We shouldn’t stick together too much or we would be a bigger target for them, and-”

“No need to get so sweaty over a game of laser tag,” I teased, crouching behind the tall boxlike structure that Dream pointed to. 

He only smiled simply, finding his own position. 

Soon enough, a loud buzz emanated through the room, allowing us to shoot the other players. Both Dream and I gave each other a nod to signify we were ready, to which we both advanced forward to the couple that were hiding behind their own boxes. 

I clung to the outside of the wall, hiding behind different obstacles as to not be seen. Nick came out of hiding, charging into the center while Karl stayed behind, peeking out from behind an identical box to the one I hid behind at the start of the game. I looked through a hole in one of the structures, firing haphazardly at the orange light that glowed from Karl’s vest. Soon, he turned and saw me, firing as soon as he could. Swiftly, I retreated, diving behind a structure so that way I was out of view. Karl ran after me, yelling, “Oh George! I’m gonna get you!”

“No you’re not!”

From my spot behind the large object, I lifted my gun over the top and started shooting, hoping that I would catch Karl. What I didn’t realize was that Karl was next to me, rapidly firing his laser gun. I laughed, darting past Dream who was having an intense laser battle of his own with Nick. On my way past, I was able to shoot Nick who wasn’t paying attention to me, but rather to my teammate. Dream gave me a quick smirk, nodding in my direction before continuing to dodge between large boxes and obstacles. 

Soon, the minute timer buzzed, signalling that our time was almost over. 

At the sound, Karl ran into the middle going all out, hoping to catch both Dream or I a couple times. Unfortunately, the plan backfired on him as both Dream and I were hidden behind a few of the obstacles, shooting over the tops. 

At approximately thirty seconds, I gained a spike of confidence so I darted into the middle myself and was able to catch both Nick and Karl without getting hit; never once did I impress myself as much when it came to any sort of athletic activity. I was hyper-focused on the game, hoping to impress my boyfriend of a few days. 

_ Beep! _

The doors to the arena opened, and our vests and guns powered down along with the lights which dimmed, leaving us in an awkward darkness. Both Dream and I ran to each other, high fiving at our obvious victory against the other team. 

“You did so good!” he yelled. “I didn’t think you would be this good at laser tag!”

I laughed, replying, “I guess it’s just a hidden talent of mine.”

“You surprise me everyday George Davidson; you really do.”

I blushed, playing with my fingers and diverting my attention past him. He slipped his hand into mine, interrupting my hands. He smiled, pulling me close to him, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I chuckled lightly, dragging him with me out of the arena and into the general area where Karl and Nick were. All of us returned our vests to the racks, finding our way to the scoreboard. 

We all looked up to the screen that showed all of our points. Dream and I were right; we completely destroyed Karl and Nick. Surprisingly, I had the most points out of all of us, Dream being close behind in second. I pulled out my phone, taking a picture because I was finally better at something than Dream was (other than ice skating). 

“Look! I’m better than you!” I yelled, tugging on Dream’s hand and motioning to the large screen. 

He shrugged, replying, “Yeah, it just wasn’t my day today I guess.”

I rolled my eyes, snickering at Dream’s saltiness; he knew I was better at laser tag, he just didn’t want to admit it. 

“What was that, Dream? You were going to do the best?” Nick teased, crossing his arms. 

“Imagine being worse than George at laser tag,” Karl said, wrapping his arms around Nick’s torso. 

Nick laughed lightly, interlocking their hands together while planting a kiss on the side of Karl’s face. 

“Get a room,” Dream lightheartedly commented on the couple, chuckling. 

I chuckled too, asking, “So, where to now?”

Nick shrugged, answering, “I didn’t get that far yet.”   
  


“You are always so bad at planning stuff,” Karl commented, pulling away from the taller. 

Nick smiled, still maintaining their hand-holding. I suggested softly, “We could go on a walk? I think I saw a park nearby.”

“That sounds really nice,” Dream responded, looking down to me. 

“Let’s go then what are you waiting for!?” Karl yelled, pulling Nick behind him as they burst through the front door of the laser tag building. 

Both Dream and I shrugged to each other, meeting a mutual understanding that we probably should leave them to themselves and enjoy Dream and I’s time together alone. 

Both of us crossed the street and to the park which was illuminated by vintage street lamps lined along a dusty path. I shivered, feeling a slight chill from the outside air. Dream noticed, and he asked, “Are you cold?”

I nodded gently, replying, “I didn’t think it could get this cold…”

Dream let go of my hand and took off his hoodie, handing it to me promptly afterwards. 

“But Dream, you’ll get cold… I should have just brought my own hoodie.”

“I don’t care,” he replied, forcing it to me. “I think you would look really good in my hoodie anyways.”

I blushed, putting it on anyways as a sign of gratefulness for Dream’s kindness. It was big on me, as it went to around mid-thigh, and the sleeves went past the palms of my hands and ended right below the end of my pinky. 

“Awe, it’s so big on you,” he commented, returning to holding my hand as we strolled along the dimly lit path. 

“Shut up,” I replied softly, looking away from Dream. 

“You’re so cute when you get flustered,” he added, pulling me closer to him so that he could unlatch out hands and wrap his arm around my waist. 

I happily complied, leaning into him slightly as we continued to admire the nature around us (even if I didn’t really care for it). I was only there so I could be alone with Dream; or as alone as we could get in public. 

“I wonder what Karl and Nick are doing,” I mumbled, looking up to Dream. 

“I don’t think I want to know,” Dream laughed, bringing himself to a wheeze. 

“Ew, I don’t even want to think about that Dream, you’re disgusting.”

Frustratingly, I was also brought to a laugh by Dream’s own laugh, which I found more hilarious than the situation. 

“It’s not even that funny!” I yelled, pushing him playfully. 

“Yes it is!”

I shook my head, bringing us to a bench that sat near a water fountain in the middle of the large park. Dream sat next to me, pulling me into his chest. 

“I’m glad we got to do this,” Dream said, looking up to the sky at the weening sunset. “I really… I think this was good for us. Before tomorrow.”

I hummed, adding, “I think so too… I had a lot of fun. Plus, I learned that I was better than you at laser tag.”

I snickered, Dream replying with a simple, “Whatever.”

I calmed down as I listened to the sound of the night bugs and the water that splashed behind us in the fountain. It was tranquil; as if nothing could break the feeling of calmness and togetherness we had in that moment. 

I flipped myself over Dream, (seeing as there was no one else around us) and I straddled his legs, facing him in the dim lighting. An orange backlight illuminated the right half of his face, leaving the rest in a mysterious darkness. Although, his eyes seemed to glow the same way a cats would. He held the sides of my waist gingerly, leaning forward expecting me to close the gap. I complied, peppering the ridge of his nose with light kitten kisses, resting my chin in the nook of his neck. He shifted me closer, quietly humming a song into my ear. 

Not once did I feel more loved than in that moment. Even if Dream and I had more romantically intense moments, there was something about the one in that moment in particular that meant even more to me; we were connected in some sort of serenity, trapped in our own world as if nothing could touch us in the bubble we surrounded ourselves with. Just us, and that was it. 

“I… I love you Clay Anderson.”

He inhaled deeply, obviously taken aback by my sudden display of emotion. 

“I love you too, angel.”


	28. 27|The Tournament|

_!!(A/N)!!: The chess tournament may not be completely accurate to a real one, but it will have the basic concept. Thank you for understanding :) _

**George's POV**

I fidgeted with my phone case on the way to the convention center where the chess tournament was usually held (as Dream had informed me). 

Tons of weight seemed to weigh me down into the seat of Dream's pick-up truck; everyone was counting on me. I  _ couldn't  _ screw it up. I  _ had _ to do well. 

I took a deep breath, calling my mom while turning off the music. 

_ Ring… ring… ring…  _

"Hi honey!"

"Hey mom," I replied softly. 

"What's wrong? You sound a bit under the weather." 

I answered, "The chess tournament is today." 

"Oh, you'll do wonderful! I know it," My mom responded in a false cheerfulness; she was tired- she was working late, as usual. 

"Mom, you sound tired," I pointed out. 

"Oh, just… the late shift again." 

She laughed lightly, but it wasn't a joke, and it definitely wasn't funny to hear. I didn't like listening to how tired she was. She worked three jobs at once just to stay afloat, and she never once had time for herself. It made me feel sick to my stomach, because I was one of the issues she had when it came to money. 

_ She's suffering like this because of you.  _

I gripped onto the hem of my shirt for some sort of relief from the nagging thoughts in the back of my head. 

"I… Is it bad again? I mean… are they back?" 

"George I don't know…" 

"You know what I'm asking." 

She sighed, responding truthfully, "Yes, and they are threatening to take the house if I don't pay… I'm close to paying it though!" 

It was a lie. 

I ran my hand through my hair, breathing in deeply. 

"When… when I'm done with school, I want… I want to come back. Start working immediately… I need to help you… it's all-" 

"No George!" She cut me off. "Don't say it. You're going to get a good education, I promise you that. I can't hold you back… George please." 

"But… I… I am the reason-" 

"Please," she pleaded. "Please stop. It's not your fault- it was never your fault. It… it was…" 

"Dad's?" 

She didn't answer; instead she just sighed. I could hear the rustling behind the phone stop. 

We both knew what the answer was, she just didn't want to admit it. 

"Your dad… he… he would be so proud of you," she stated optimistically. 

"If he was so proud then…" I hesitated before continuing, "Then why… isn't dad here? Why is it that… that…" I sighed, trailing off. "Why did he leave us then?" 

Her end of the line fell silent. 

My hands became extremely shaky; the only way I could get them to stop was by holding onto the hem of my shirt tightly, hoping they would stop. Seeing my hands so shaky only panicked me more, in an odd sense. 

"I don't think we should be having this conversation right now," she stated in a monotone voice.

"Then when will we have it, if not now?" 

"I have to get back to work George. Good luck on your tournament-" 

_ Beep.  _

I looked down to my phone, reading that our conversation only lasted a few minutes. Dream was dead silent; he glanced over to me, worried. Slowly he took the hand that was holding onto the hem of my shirt and took it into his own on the center console. 

"George… you're, you're shaking," he informed. "Did you take your meds today?" 

I looked over to him, explaining, "Yes… yes but they don't… they don't magically cure my anxiety… I have a lot on my mind right now." 

He gave me another glance, squeezing my hand. 

"You're gonna do great angel," he pulled my hand up, giving the back of it a kiss. 

I watched as his lips made contact softly, but that wasn't even enough to calm the buildup of emotions in my chest. I smiled softly to show that I appreciated the gesture, to which he smiled back and continued to concentrate on the road. 

"What… whatever…" he sighed, contemplating what he should say. Slowly, he continued, "You don't have to say anything, George… but… what happened-"

"With my dad?" 

He took a second before he nodded. I ran my other hand through my hair, trying to collect my thoughts. 

"He… he died," I said. "He committed suicide… July 15th, 2011…" 

The car fell into silence, but I continued anyway with a sad smile adorning my face, "He really liked chess… he told me he liked it because there are so many… so many different paths that the game could take. Almost unpredictable, unless 'you had the right eye'," I laughed softly, reminiscing on previous memories. 

Dream tested a small smile, not wanting to upset me. He asked, "Is that where you learned chess? From him?" 

I nodded, replying, "I once was in a chess competition… when I was younger. I had only ever… been in one before. It was July 10th, 2011. I remember the date because… well… it was five days before-" 

"Yeah," he interrupted, not wanting me to explain any further. 

"Yeah." 

"How did it go?" 

"I won, I mean I did it… but was that not enough for him? Was he not proud five days later? What did I miss that I didn't see before? I'm… I'm at a loss Clay, I-" 

"George," he spoke firmly but still with a gentle edge. "I'm, I'm sure you weren't the reason… he-" 

"I… I don't want to believe it, but what else am I supposed to believe?" 

He inhaled deeply, unsure of what to say next. Instead of continuing the conversation, he informed me, "We're here." 

I was perfectly content not continuing the conversation, mostly because thinking about my dad--or even my past--made me a lot more anxious. The last thing I needed was more anxiety on top of what I already had from the upcoming tournament. 

Both Dream and I left his car, and walked hand in hand to the back entrance of the small-ish convention center where the tournament was taking place. 

The event coordinators asked for our names and handed us some badges, ushering us along to the rest of our group which consisted of all of the members- even Techno. 

"Dream! George! Where were you guys?" Bad asked frantically. "We didn't think you guys were gonna make it in time!" 

"Oh c'mon Bad, we still have around five minutes," Dream smirked. "You are always so uptight when it comes to these things." 

"For a reason!" He huffed, turning to Zak who was harassing one of the event coordinators who was holding a box with snack bags inside. "Zak! No- I'm sorry about him!" 

"I have to go to the bathroom," I told Dream. "I'll be right back." 

"Don't take long," he said, unlatching our hands. 

I smiled softly, finding the bathroom in the back. Quickly, I slammed the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror; I looked tired, and broken. I had stayed up all of the night previous worrying and stressing over that day, that I didn't sleep even a little bit. 

I splashed some of the water onto my face, looking at myself in the mirror once again. 

Still just as broken, tired… 

_ Disappointing.  _

"Hey." 

I backed away from the sink, jumping at the sound of someone else in the bathroom with me. 

"...Hello?" 

"Turn around, Gogy," the voice said, with a familiar tease coming with the secret nickname.

"Wilbur?" I turned around, looking up to meet eye contact with the taller. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Did you really think Tommy and I would miss this? Hell no, we wouldn't."

I grinned, excited that they would come to watch this (even if it would've been boring for them). The grin quickly left my face when I remembered that I had to compete in T-minus five minutes.

"Are you okay? You look stressed."

"Uhm…" I ran my hands through my hair. "Yeah, I… I don't… I can't be… I can't mess up. I… I can't do this… I'm…" 

Everything that came out of my mouth turned into one big jumble of words, but the basic idea was there; I couldn't do it. I couldn't disappoint. 

"'No one ever got better by quitting', George." 

The quote seemed to resonate deep within my brain, but I couldn't figure out why it did; what about it was so familiar? 

Then it clicked. 

"Yeah… yeah… no one got better by quitting…" I reiterated my father's own words. "How… how did you know…?" 

"Come on, George. I knew him just as well as I know you. If he didn't say that, I'd be shocked."

"You're right," I laughed politely, "he did say it quite often, didn't he?" 

It was such a basic quote, but I always associated my dad with it; it was one of the few things I remembered that he did. I was scared I would forget him entirely. 

"He really did. It stuck with you, too. You never quit."

"Yeah, I never did," I repeated once more. "But… I really, really want to quit now," I laughed lightly. "I… I wish he was here right now Wilbur… I…" 

A few tears slid down my cheek as I maintained eye contact with Wilbur.

"I know, George. I think a few of us wished he were here. But you know he's cheering you on. He'll be louder than every spectator out here, even the Student Section. You didn't give up when you and Clay got rocky. Chess is your family legacy, don't give up now."

I smiled, wiping the tears from my cheek. It was true; even though it was a chess tournament (and usually spectators stayed silent), he would be the only one cheering like it was a sports game. 

"I only did chess for him… I did it because of him," I explained. "I guess you're right… I… I shouldn't give up now, right? For him."

"You're so, so good at Chess. 'Take that talent and run with it.' You told me that when we were kids. It's your turn. Take this talent of yours, and run with it."

"I… thank you, Wilbur," I pulled him into a warm hug. 

Wilbur returned the hug with a smile. "Of course, it's what best friends do. Now, if you don't go out there and kick ass, I'm going to be very upset with you."

"I'll… I'll do my best… Wilbur," I reassured. "For you... for dad." 

The intercom crackled as it came to life; the person on the other end stated monotonically, "All chess tournament participants, please report to your assigned tables. All spectators, please return to specified spectator seating. Thank you." 

"Anytime, George, you need to talk, remember, you have me. Good luck."

"Thank you so much Wilbur," I smiled. "I'll see you when I win." 

We finally backed away from our hug, separating ways outside of the bathroom. 

Wilbur gave me a sense of newfound determination; instead of thinking about how I couldn't let them down, I thought about how I was going to exceed expectations. 

_ I have to do it for dad. I have to show him I could do it.  _

With one deep breath, I headed straight for my table without once hesitating. I had to do it; I couldn't give up. There was no time for uncertainty, no time to recalculate everything. 

Once the timer started, I knew my decision was final. 

Swiftly, I made confident moves against the person in front of me. He had large, plastic glasses and a smug grin, but that grin faded when he noticed what kind of trap he fell straight into. 

"Checkmate," I smirked, the first win fueling my confidence. 

Both the kid and I sat in a cold silence as one of the officiators looked over our board and confirmed that it was, in fact, a checkmate. I had won the first game. 

The announcer's sing-songy voice announced, "George Davidson has 2 points, Clay Anderson has 1 point…" and so on and so forth. 

In a quick fashion, we were pushed to our next games. This time, the person I was against seemed less confident in what she was doing. She moved her pawns, questioning all of her moves in her head. She blundered right at the beginning, setting the tone for the rest of the game. 

My nerves were still at their highest they had been all day, but it didn't matter, because I managed to sneak past her defenses and checkmate her king. 

"That's checkmate, isn't it?" She asked, disappointed. 

"Yes, it is," I informed. 

"Good game!" She brightly cheered, flipping her bright pink hair over her shoulder. 

"Yes, very good game," I agreed. 

As an officiator evaluated our game, she shook my hand over the table. 

"Good luck!" 

"Uhm," I replied, unsure as to why she was being so nice, "To you too." 

The announcer came onto the microphone once again, informing us, "George Davidson has 5 points, Clay Anderson has 3 points..." 

I smiled, so impressed with myself. I looked up to the spectator section to see my friends going absolutely feral; one of the security guards was seen talking to them, most likely telling Karl and Nick to stop jumping on their seats. 

I blushed, shaking my head and laughing lightly. 

_ Why is this the friend group I chose to identify with?  _

Next, I was paired against a lanky individual with messy long red hair and a mess of freckles sprinkling his face. 

"Hmm, I won't go easy on you like I have been for previous contestants" he said. "Since, you seem to be so good,  _ George _ ." 

His taunting nature made me feel a bit sick to his stomach, but at the same time so much more determined to beat him. The chess matches are paired on the spot based on the amount of points you have. So for example, this kid I was against probably had the same amount of points as me, so he probably beat the last two games he played. 

"Sure you wanted to do that?" He asked smugly. 

I rolled my eyes, certain in what I was doing. Rather than getting under my skin, he was annoying me beyond words. All of the annoyance clouding my brain dissipated when I saw HE blundered. 

"Sure you wanted to do that?" I mimicked, placing his king into checkmate. 

He scoffed, crossing his arms. 

"I don't think that's checkmate, I mean what kind of move is that-"

The officiator interrupted him, stating, "I'm sorry sir, but it's legal. It's a checkmate." 

"Yes, sorry," I replied, sarcastically, "It's a checkmate." 

The boy scoffed once more, reclining in his seat with an amused smile on his face. He didn't want to believe that he lost, but sorry to tell him, his winning streak was over. 

"George Davidson has 8 points, Clay Anderson has 6 points…" 

We were transported to our next game; the second to last game. If I could keep this winning streak up, I would eventually win the whole tournament. 

The person who I was next against seemed pretty apathetic when it came to the game; almost bored. 

"Good luck," he said simply, starting the game off. 

Soon enough, the game eventually ended; once again it ended in my favor. 

"Checkmate." 

He waved his hand, leaning back in the chair. 

"Yeah, yeah… I just wasn't in the right headspace," he mumbled to himself. 

_ Why is everyone here such a dick?  _

I sighed, waiting for the announcer to announce our scores. 

"George Davidson has 11 points, Clay Anderson has 9 points… we are now onto our last game!"

I looked back over to my friends in the spectator section before I was escorted to my next game. Karl and Nick were going nuts, jumping up and down, while Wilbur and Tommy were both bantering amongst themselves. Karl looked up to me, waving. Not wanting to group myself with them, I simply nodded, going to my next, and last, game. 

The girl who was sitting at the table gave me a simple smile, already taking her first move. I took a deep breath, taking my first move quickly; a little too quick, might I add. 

I noticed my blunder, hoping that she didn't as I looked at the complacent expression on her face. 

_ I'm such a fucking disappointment… I- _

She made another move confidently. Like me, she didn't think about her move. It was a mistake… she messed up! 

I took advantage of the situation and the time we had to think over my next few moves. 

_ I could do it. I could win.  _

I made my next few moves in succession; I could see the look of determination on her face as she leaned forward to get a better look at the board. 

_ Tick-  _

"Check," she said, smiling. 

"Sure," I said. "But checkmate."

Her eyes darted down to the board, in shock. 

"Uh… yeah… good game," she mumbled, putting her head into her hands. 

"Yeah, good game!" I raised my voice, relieved and excited. 

I won, I actually won; I didn't disappoint anyone- I fucking won! 

"And we have our winner for Florida's Annual Teen Chess Tournament! George Davidson!" 

I heard a bunch of screams from the spectator section, seeing all of my friends jump up from their seats. Man, no one is ever that excited for chess- that must mean something. 

Dream came up behind me, pulling me up from my chair. 

"You did it! You won!" He cheered, pulling me into a hug. 

_ No one is ever this excited for chess,  _ I joked in my head. 

I laughed, hugging him back. Some of the other chess club members came up to me, congratulating me on my victory- even the Technoblade. 

"Congrats," Techno said. "I didn't think you could do it, but you did it." 

"Thank you Techno," I replied, deciding to take his half-insult as a complement. 

"I should have made you president," Dream joked, putting his arm around my shoulders. "Let's go and get your trophy, then we can go out and eat. Nick said he’d pay.." 

"Alright!" I replied, saying goodbye to the other chess club members that were crowded together. 

I accepted my trophy, excited for my win. It was exhilarating; I won. 

Together, both Dream and I walked to our friends, who were going feral over the sight of me and my trophy (Tommy and Wilbur just stood there, beaming at me- It was mainly Karl and Nick going nuts). 

"You did it George! You actually popped off!" Karl yelled, running towards me. 

Nick caught up with Karl, congratulating me. Both Wilbur and Tommy made their way to us as well, just not as frantically. 

"We need a picture together! All of us!" Nick yelled, taking out his phone and pulling us together in a group. 

Tommy stayed back, to which Dream pulled him by his sleeve next to us to fit in the frame. Hesitantly, he stayed, but only because Dream had an iron grip on his arm. 

After Nick spammed the button to take pictures, we all backed away from each other. Nick asked, "Does everyone want to go out to eat? It's my treat," he pulled out a black credit card which he held in his pocket. 

"Pizza?" I asked softly. 

"Sure George," he laughed. "I know a really good pizza place we could go to. You guys can follow us in Dream's car." 

I shrugged, agreeing to the plan. 

As per Nick's request, we also took Tommy and Wilbur in Dream's car so we weren't alone together. I guessed that Nick still wasn't on good terms with Tommy, or Tommy annoyed him on the way to the convention center; nevertheless, we all piled into Dream's car and started to follow behind Nick. 

“That was insane, George! You completely swept the playing field!” Wilbur said from the back seat.

"Yeah? Why was everyone so excited over a chess tournament; I mean, I saw Nick and Karl at one point going absolutely feral," I laughed. 

"You saw that too?" Dream asked. "I… I can't believe we allowed them to come with us." 

I added, "How could you not see them? They were literally jumping on their chairs!" 

“Those two were on some serious shit, today. They were nearly kicked out. Twice!”

"I can't believe they didn't actually get kicked out- I kind of wish they did," I chuckled, bringing my hand together with Dream's onto the center console as usual. 

"They’re some serious nutcases,” Wilbur commented with a chuckle of his own to add to George’s. “They need to relax.” 

"Nick has always been like that- Karl I'm not really sure about, but definitely Nick," Dream informed. "And it seems like we are here." 

We parked in front of a brick building, with a brown and white awning over the door. Next to the building were some metal cafe tables with matching umbrellas to the awning that hung over the door. Fairy lights were strung across the tops of light poles to the top of the building, hanging nicely over the outdoor tables. 

Nick and Karl met us outside of their car, Nick with his hand in Karl's. 

Speaking of the two, they also decided to come out alongside us; it just wasn't as big of a deal because people saw it coming and they were a lot more obvious about their "secret" relationship. 

Since it was a nice day out, Nick insisted that we should eat outside, so that left the rest of us to pile into a long café table while Nick went inside to order. I sat next to Dream with Tommy to my immediate left. Wilbur sat next to him, and Karl after that. Nick was left to sit in between Karl and Dream. 

"I'm so hungry, I was basically rushed out of the house this morning by Nick," I complained, leaning back in my chair. 

"Well stop sleeping so much," Dream laughed. 

"I… I didn't sleep," I laughed. 

"Why not?" Karl asked. 

"I… I was worried," I softly admitted. "I wanted to waste as much time as I could before the tournament. I was so anxious!" 

“And you had no reason to be,” Wilbur commented. “You sweeped the floor with pure skill and intelligence.”

"Now you're going a little  _ too  _ far," I laughed, leaning my head into Dream's shoulder. 

"No, I was actually so impressed! You did so well! Like, I was so shocked," Dream added. "Like I had… no idea that… like you were  _ that _ good." 

"Shut up…" I said, looking back to the door of the pizza place to see Nick coming out with a few pizza boxes in his hand. With a huff, he set the pizza down onto the table, finding his seat next to Karl. 

"Finally! I'm so hungry," I complained once more, taking a slice of the pepperoni pizza. 

"Well maybe if you ate before we left," Nick added. "My mom literally made us food." 

"Shut up, she made  _ you  _ food," I laughed. 

"Because you were taking so long to get ready!" He argued, throwing a pepperoni at me. 

The pepperoni landed right on the white shirt I was wearing, leaving a stain. 

"You did not," I gasped, glaring back at him. 

I looked down to my slice, and back up to Nick. I found myself debating whether it would be better to sacrifice my slice of pizza by winging it right into face, or eating it. 

Of course, I chose to throw it right at him. 

I laughed at the look of shallow betrayal and hurt on his face. 

"You're going down you British bastard-" 

He lunged over Dream, trying to get to me while I just sat there, in hysterics over what I just did. 

"You guys are like small children!" Dream lightheartedly yelled. "Stop it Nick." 

He pushed Nick off of him, finding himself in a wheezing fit, which only made everyone else laugh. His dumb wheeze cpuld make anything ten times funnier than it actually was. 

"Dream, shut up, it's not funny!" I laughed, knocking into him lightly with my shoulder. 

The laughter among us all died down, as we returned to actually eating, rather than wearing, our pizza that Nick bought us. 

“There’s an actual child at this table,” Wilbur teased, glancing at Tommy, who was scrolling through social media silently. He didn’t even bat an eye at the tease. “An actual child, and you two are more wound up.” 

Dream burst out into laughter once more, adding breathlessly, "See- see! Even… even Wilbur thinks you're a child!" 

Tommy didn’t even acknowledge the false insult. In fact, he didn’t even look up from his phone to join the conversation. He was dead silent, in his own little world created by his phone, and the things the screen displayed to him.

Dream's laughter died down once more, saying, "I'm sorry if… if I upset you Tommy." 

All of us had our eyes on Tommy, which very obviously made him uncomfortable. 

He did, however, glance up at the mention of his name. Despite the tension, he quietly muttered, “Were you guys talking to me?” 

"Yeah, yeah we were," Karl added. "Where were you at?" He laughed. 

"Basically, Wilbur and Dream called you a child," Nick added. 

All Tommy did was hum in response, and return to his phone. Gears seemed to be turning in Wilbur’s head for a second, before it clicked, and he said, “Social anxiety. He’s been pretty quiet in public scenes lately. The medication hasn’t kicked in, yet.”

"You finally went to therapy! I'm… really happy you did," Dream stated sincerely. 

“You would not believe the arguing he and our mom had over it,” Wilbur said with a chuckle. “He didn’t want to go, but I told her what you said, and she agreed he needed it.”

"I can imagine… what it must have been like," I butted in. "I was kind of the same with my own mom… but I went anyway. Just a bit of a different circumstance, I guess." 

I didn't argue with my mom because I thought I didn't need it; I didn't want to go because it would mean I had to finally realize the fact that my dad was gone. Therapy meant that he was completely gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Tommy kept silent, only returning to his phone moments later. The table became quiet; almost a sickening quiet. I took another bite of my pizza, but it was tasteless- did I overshare? 

“You went to therapy, too?” Wilbur asked, after the silence rang for a moment too long. “I didn’t know that. It’s good that you put yourself first, for once.”

"I mean I really should be still but I don't know any therapists here. The ones in the UK are much better, I've heard," I attempted to joke, which fell flat. "But yeah, I have. I mean, a lot has changed Wilbur, since we were little. Both of us are definitely not the same." 

"It's weird how you guys used to know each other," Dream changed the subject. "I mean, what are the chances of that happening? Like one in seven-point-five trillion, probably!"

“Sometimes, I forget you all never knew he existed until a few months ago,” Wilbur responded shyly. “It seems so natural, to just talk like everyone knew him as long as I did.”

"I told you I was his cousin," Nick started. "You told me I was lying but I wasn't!"

“Dude, do you know how unbelievable it is to hear a  _ Floridian  _ Middle School boy say his cousin is British? You’re stupid sometimes, Nick,” Wilbur taunted with a smirk, feeling even more pleased with himself when he heard Tommy quietly chuckle at the insult. It meant he was listening.

"Excuse me? I'm a  _ Texan  _ who just happens to live in Florida," he corrected. 

"You've lived in Florida way longer than you have Texas," Dream added. 

"So? I identify with Texas more." 

Karl cackled and added, "You are the opposite of a Texan, you are not a yee-haw boy." 

"Shut up!" Nick replied playfully, knocking into Karl. 

"I wonder what it would be like if we actually received each other's letters," I commented thoughtfully. "Where we would be now." 

“Honestly? I think we’d be in the same place. We probably wouldn’t have been this popular, but we’d be best friends. All the drama that happened over those stupid letters would've never happened-” Wilbur’s hand shot over to Tommy’s shoulder, giving him a firm, yet supportive hold to release the tension that hit after mentioning the picture; a signal that Tommy was still listening to the conversation. “And we’d probably be like, at home right now, doing whatever kids that aren’t us do.”

I hummed in response, adding, "I'm glad we never received each other's letters then. For some… strange reason… I'm happy that all of this happened. The party, the photo- just everything. It was worth it to go through it all to be right here, right now... I love you guys…"

"Aw," Dream said. "I love you Georgeeeee," he cooed, bringing me into a hug where he also left a chaste kiss on my forehead. 

"We love you too George!" Karl yelled, resting his head on Nick's shoulder. 

When I first got to America, I wasn't expecting my life to change so drastically in such a short amount of time. I honestly wasn't expecting to be surrounded with such amazing people.

Within the span of a couple months, I tried alcohol for the first time, had a near-death experience, found the love of my life, had my first kiss, got our relationship blasted on social media, had my first breakup and first make-up, and chased after a runaway. Not to mention, I just won a chess tournament. 

_ Well checkmate, America. You can't take me down that easily.  _

“Hey, let’s take a minute, guys,” Wilbur commented. “Look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now. Together, right here, as friends.”

“Fucking theatre nerd,” Tommy muttered from looking at his phone, drawing a giggle from Wilbur.

We all looked around; even Tommy. 

How lucky we were, to be right here, right now, together with the relationships we had. 

How unbelievably lucky  _ I  _ was. 

And to think, it all stemmed from a simple high school Chess Club.


	29. Epilogue|Prom Kings|

**George’s POV**

I found myself pacing around the bathroom, hands in the pockets of the black tuxedo that Aunt Willow and Uncle Andy insisted on picking out for me (even though I told them that it was much too expensive; Aunt Willow didn’t care anyway). Nick knocked on the door, complaining, “Come on George, you probably look great, Dream is here!”

I felt my heart stop at the mention of Dream’s name. 

I straightened out my suit, clearing my throat as I replied, “Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?”

Nick entered the bathroom carefully, clad in a suit of his own which was in a navy blue color. As he was entering he said, “I’m sure you look fine-” he stopped himself when he saw me, a smile rising on his face. 

“What?” I asked, panicked that I really did look ridiculous and had no time to change because Dream was already there. 

“You look amazing,” Nick muttered, almost crying. 

“Shut up,” I laughed, continuing, “I guess we should go then, right?”

Nick sniffled, nodding his head. “I don’t think Karl or Dream would like it if we were late.”

  
“FASHIONABLY late,” I corrected. 

He laughed lightly, walking beside me down the stairs to meet with my Aunt and Uncle and with our partners for the night. I took a deep breath as I walked down the stairs, excited to see Dream but scared for him to see me. 

At the bottom of the stairs, I had the breath knocked out of me as I was met with my date for the night- Clay “Dream” Anderson. 

His smile sparkled under the dim lighting of the house, which paired well with the sparkle in his eyes. Everything about him seemed heightened to a new sense of attractive; the slight chuckle he gave me as he walked up to me, how he had his tuxedo coat slung over his shoulder in a fashionable sense. For the first time, I got to see his hair properly tamed from the wild mess of locks they once were to something that looked somewhat classy. His reflective dress shoes clicked in a repetitive rhythm as we both met in the middle of the foyer. 

“Wow… I… you,” I stuttered. 

“I could say the same,” he joked lightly, taking the edge of my suit and pinning a blue Nemophila flower boutonniere to it. 

“Wow, thank you,” I chuckled, looking down to my suit to admire the blue flower. “Oh I guess I should give you yours too,” I laughed, pinning his own to his suit, which was composed of the same flower. 

“Oh my, you boys look absolutely wonderful,” Aunt Willow exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Your mother wants a picture of all of you together, so let’s get one before you go!”

Both Dream and I sat on the stairs, Nick and Karl sitting on the steps directly behind us. Dream pulled me into his arms, smiling wide for the picture. I did the same, my cheeks a hint red from being in Dream’s arms; never did the butterflies go away after months of being together. They were still as strong as the moment we first kissed in the bed of his red pick-up truck in an abandoned parking lot- I was truly living the American dream. 

The flash on Uncle Andy’s phone went off a couple of times before we were finally allowed to move from our positions on the stairs. Aunt Willow audibly “awed”, pointing out, “You look so happy George! Aw and look at Nick and Karl… this is… I might cry…”

She pulled Nick and I into a hug, sobbing lightly. Both Nick and I were very uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter much to me. Aunt Willow was always easily moved by a moment; I found it quite endearing. 

“Now dear, we should let them go enjoy their night together. Prom starts soon!” my uncle informed her. 

“Oh yes, you’re absolutely right,” she backed away from us, dabbing the tears away from her face. “Have fun boys! And Karl, take care of my Nick, will you?”

“Of course!” Karl responded, dragging Nick along by the hand out of the door. 

Both Dream and I looked to each other, Dream reaching his hand out to me. 

“Shall we?” He smirked. 

“We shall,” I answered, taking his hand into mine. 

Both he and I walked outside to the limo when Nick’s parents kindly rented for us, hopping into the backseat with both Nick and Karl. Literally and figuratively, the two were bouncing off of the walls in pure excitement. Dream held my hand on the way, maintaining a gentle eye contact with me. We both smiled at each other like love drunken fools. 

“You look so pretty tonight,” he smiled. 

I laughed lightly, asking, “Do I not look pretty any other time?”

“Oh c’mon, you know what I meant Georgie,” he leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of my face with a soft elegance. 

I whispered breathlessly against the skin of his lips, “I do,” pulling him in by the back of his neck. 

Both Nick and Karl yelled, “Ooooooo!” before laughing at themselves. 

I rolled my eyes, backing away from Dream. His hands still rested in the dips of my torso, kissing the top of my head. I blushed, leaning against his chest with my forehead. He chuckled lightly as I said to Nick and Karl with fake aggravation, “Shut up… both of you.”

“Yeah, shut up Karl!” Nick lightly pushed him.

Karl cackled, asking, “What!?”   
  


Nick quickly pulled him into his chest, still in a gentle laugh. Karl kissed the area in between his jawline and ear, calming down some. The rest of the ride was kept in a loving silence as we all enjoyed the presence of our loved one, pumped up for the prom we were about to have. I looked out of the window at the passing homes, each one cookie cutter and similar to the last, yet there was something so beautiful about it. I was going to miss Floridian suburbia, and I was going to miss all of the people I met in my American high school journey. 

Soon enough, the driver had informed us that we made it to the high school, so all of us left the limo, stepping into the slightly chilled air of the evening. 

“Wow, they really went all out this prom,” Dream pointed out as we told the girl at the front our names. 

“Good thing,” Karl mumbled. “If it was space themed for the third time in a row, I would’ve been so mad.”

“Agreed,” Nick added, wondering “Did you want to get drinks, Karl?”

“Uh… sure-”

Nick pulled Karl along with him to the drinks, leaving Dream and I to ourselves. 

“I literally bought him a fucking ticket, what do you mean, I can’t bring him with me?!”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t let  _ freshman _ into  _ senior  _ prom,” the girl at the front stated impatiently. 

Both Dream and I turned to the door, watching as Wilbur was arguing with the girl at the front, Tommy standing behind him looking just as annoyed as Wilbur was. Zak, who was the president of the prom committee, straightened the end of his suit, quickly trying to diffuse the situation. 

“What’s wrong Wilbur?” Zak asked frantically. 

“This fucker won’t let both of us in! If he can’t go with me, I don’t stay, Zak.” 

“Wilbur… Wilbur should we really be yelling? People are trying to enjoy their prom…” Zak quickly flipped through the clipboard. “I’m so sorry Wilbur, you can come in, Tommy too!” 

Zak smiled, the girl tugging on his sleeve. He quickly brushed it off, guiding both Wilbur and Tommy into the prom with a look of relief on his face. I waved to Wilbur, signalling for him to come over. He waved back, Tommy trailing behind him as they made their way over to us. 

“What was that about?” I asked. 

“She tried turning Tommy away, just because he’s a Freshman. Like hell.”

“That’s dumb,” Dream commented. “You literally paid. Good thing Zak was here.”

“I thought you were going to like… I don’t know, throw hands if the girl didn’t let Tommy in,” I laughed. 

“I fucking would’ve, too. Either that, or just left.”

“I’m glad you came Tommy! I didn’t think you would want to come,” Dream added. 

Tommy hummed quietly in response, acknowledging the fact that he was addressed. 

I noticed the quiet nature of Tommy, understanding that he was probably overwhelmed or just nervous from the amount of people there. Over the past couple of months, Tommy has been coming out of his shell, but I could tell when he was anxious because I was often like that as well. Naturally, hanging out with a group of very loud, popular kids did help me become more acclimated to a scene with a lot of people around, but like Tommy I still had moments where I was anxious. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t also a little bit anxious in the moment. To help relieve some of this anxiousness, I planned on taking Tommy to somewhere less crowded than the entrance of the gym. 

“Did you want to get something to drink Tommy?” I asked, smiling. “I haven’t got to talk to you in awhile.” 

Tommy glanced up from his hands upon being addressed again. “Uh… Sure,” he mumbled quietly. “I guess.”

“Let’s go then,” I said to Tommy, turning back to Dream. “I’ll be back soon, don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I’ll try not to,” he laughed lightly, giving me a light kiss on the cheek before I left to go to the drinks with Tommy. 

“How are you doing, Tommy?” I asked, pulling one of the red cups from a stack on the table. 

“Fine, I guess,” he responded with a small shrug. “Why?”

“Well you know,” I poured both Tommy and I a random soda. “After everything that went down, we didn’t really get to talk much, you know?”

“You’re a busy boyfriend.”

“Well,” I smirked, handing him one of the cups. “I wouldn’t say that. You’ve been the one that’s busy, with soccer and all.”

I turned to look over to Dream, who was standing across the room with Wilbur. I smiled when he met eye contact with me. 

“Well… Um… I mean… My grades have to be top notch, so…”

“True,” I added, leaving us in a small silence. “I noticed when you first got here, you were anxious… I could tell. How… how have you been doing with… that?”

Another small shrug. “I’m… Fine.”

I scoffed, asking, “That’s it? You know you can tell me anything. I’m more than willing to listen to you. I can relate to you.”

“The meds just haven’t kicked in. I’m fine.”

I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. I decided to just leave Tommy to himself and not bother him; if he didn’t want to talk, that was completely fine. If Tommy was more comfortable just standing there, then I was too. 

He looked down at the cup in his hands, swirling the liquid inside awkwardly. He was tense, but whether it was from the tense conversation or the overwhelming scene, was debatable.

**Dream’s POV**

George and Tommy started to walk to the drinks on the other side, leaving Wilbur and I to ourselves. I found myself staring at George, enjoying the way he smiled lightly and took ginger sips of his soda he was holding. I was so lucky to find someone so beautiful and caring as George was. Even as I saw the way his eyes crinkled when he lightly laughed, it was probably one of the cutest sights I had ever laid my eyes on. 

“You are head over heels for that man, aren’t you?”

I whipped my head over to Wilbur as he brought me out of my thoughts. I lightly replied, “I… I definitely am,” I chuckled. “He’s perfect Wilbur… just perfect. I hope we never separate after high school because… he just makes me feel… I don’t know, so happy.”

“I can see that. I can also see that you mean just as much to him, as he means to you.”

“Really?” I asked. “George… he's very… bad at expressing his emotions most of the time- I know that he loves me though, it’s just I’m surprised you could  _ see  _ it.”

“Dream, I’ve known him for over ten years. I can read him like an open book. He wasn’t always this closed off.”

“Seriously? I couldn’t imagine him as anything else from… I don’t know. Quiet, reserved. Mostly by himself,” I explained. 

“He’s always been quiet, but he used to be so much more vocal about how he was feeling. Things changed when his family fell apart, but he’s still real easy to read.”

“I see,” I smiled when George met eye contact with me. “What about Tommy? Was he always… reserved as well?”

Wilbur shook his head, saying, “That’s more recent. He’s struggling to get himself going on the medication. I think he thinks it’s going to hold him back.”

“But he’s still taking it, right? We can’t have him… do what he did before,” I eluded to an event that happened quite recently. 

“He’s taking it. He skipped it this morning, but this is the first time since that weekend. He’s… Coming to terms with it.”

“I hope so,” I responded, crossing my arms. “When we finally graduate, there really isn’t going to be anyone there for him. I’m worried for him. To be by himself again.”

“I’m worried, too. He has Toby, but Toby doesn’t really know what to do for him. He can only do so much.”

I nodded softly, our conversation interrupted by Karl and Nick running straight through us, Karl on the back of Nick. 

Wilbur stepped back with a chuckle. “Are they drunk already?” He teased. “Or just psychopaths?”

I shook my head, chuckling at my friends. 

“Definitely psychopaths.”

_ They really are meant for each other, aren’t they? _

**Nick’s POV**

I dashed right between Wilbur and Tommy with Karl on my back. Zak trailed behind us, yelling, “Nick! Karl! What are you doing!?”

Both of us laughed harder, pushing past more people as Zak chased us out of the backdoors of the gym. I slipped Karl off of my back, turning him so he was in front of me. 

The music that was booming throughout the gym turned to a low rumble once the gymnasium doors finally shut completely. Both Karl and I were left alone in the back hallway. Moon beams shined through the large windows that sat parallel to both of us. The light created a heavenly glow on the side of Karl’s face, making his skin look of porcelain. I reached out to his face, my right hand resting on his cheek. His laughs turned to a simple smile, his hand lightly meeting mine on his face. A redness dusted his cheeks, bright in color. 

“What are you doing?” Karl asked timidly. 

“Just… just admiring how beautiful you are…” I replied breathlessly, my hand finding the dip in Karl’s back to grasp and pull him closer. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah…” 

My fingertips guided his lips to mine, our breath mingling and occupying the space between us. I hesitated for a moment, wanting to tease him even though it teased me just as much, if not more. He smiled lightly, letting out a shaky exhale. My fingertips guided his chin to my own, our foreheads finding their place against the others. I took one last look into Karl's lustful brown eyes which fluttered to a close, just as delicate as a butterflies flight. My lips curled upwards as I finally closed the gap between us, letting passion override our systems.

My teeth grazed against his bottom lip as he pulled away, giggling lightly. 

"What?" I asked in a whisper. 

"You're really cute," he laughed. "My Nicky." 

I chuckled at the nickname, kissing him on the forehead and pulling him into my arms. His head then laid against the top of my chest, his breathing at a peaceful pace. 

"Should we go back? For the prom king and queen thing?" 

"Yeah," I answered. "I have a feeling Dream will be prom king." 

"Who knows?" Karl joked. "You could be the next prom king, who wouldn't vote for my boyfriend?" 

He poked my chest lightly, backing away from me and looking up into my eyes. I gave him a kiss on his cheek, my smile beaming down to him.

"Just because I'm your favorite person, it doesn't mean I'm not others," I cooed. 

"Well it should be like that," he pouted. "You deserve it the most out of anyone here." 

"All I need is you, Karl," I laughed at my own cheesy remark. 

"Ew, that was so cheesy." 

"You loved it." 

"Sure."

He took my hand in his, pulling me lightly back to the gym to listen for the prom couple. 

**George's POV**

Tommy and I said our goodbyes so I could meet up with Dream before the prom king/queen pair was announced. We met in the middle of the dance floor, interlocking hands. 

I looked up to him, locking eyes. 

"Hello," he greeted. 

"Hi." 

I smiled, allowing him to pull me into his chest. 

"I have a feeling that you're going to get prom king," I saltily remark, lifting my head to meet his eyes. 

"Even if I get prom king--which I probably will--I will always love my true queen, Gogy," He half-joked. 

I rolled my eyes, replying, "If anything you would be the queen." 

"Aw, so you're saying I'm pretty?" 

"Whatever," I laughed, burying my head into his chest. "You know what I meant." 

"I know Georgie," he stated smugly. "You love me." 

I hummed in response, tuning out the music surrounding us and just focusing on Dream and I as if we were in our own bubble. 

"Hello everyone?" Zak spoke into the mic at the front of the gym. "Please, everyone! It's time to announce the prom pair!" 

Soon enough, everyone's conversations boiled down to simple whispers or complete silence. The music stopped abruptly, leaving the atmosphere tense as Zak announced the prom king and queen. 

"So first," Zak opened up a manilla-colored envelope, the paper crinkling with resistance as he dug into it. "The prom king is…!" 

I looked up to Dream who was now next to me, his face turned into a certain smile as he was sure he was the next prom king. I was certain as well. If he wasn't, then it was definitely rigged. 

"Clay Anderson!" 

Everyone clapped, even me. Dream looked back to me as he continued his trek to the microphone to receive his crown and wait for the prom queen to be announced. 

I gave him an awkward smile and nod, clasping my own hands together as some sort of substitute for Dream's hand in mine; newsflash, it didn't have merely the same comforting appeal. 

I heard Nick and Karl yelling from the left of the gym, and I could tell it was them because I could recognize their voices. I cringed internally at their loud support for Dream. 

I felt bad that I didn't have quite the enthusiasm and support that I should have had for Dream, but I was jealous that I couldn't be his prom queen. Stupid gender roles- they shouldn't exist. 

My jealousy was stupid and rather uncalled for, since I was certain Dream loved me more. I guess it was just another example of the selfishness of human nature. 

Zak fished another small envelope out of his pocket, flashing it in front of everyone for them to see. He pulled out the cardstock inside, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He looked to the side for some sort of confirmation. He shrugged, looking from the side to the mic before announcing, "And it looks like this is our first ever prom king pair! Please give all your support to our new prom king and… king, Clay Anderson and George Davidson!" 

My eyes widened in shock at the sudden mention of my name. The people around me created a direct path for me to walk to the front of the gym staring at me as I took small, uneasy steps. More yelling could be heard from Nick and Karl, but I chose to ignore it solely on the basis that I was being watched by so many people; it made me very uneasy the more and more that time went by and the closer that I had gotten to Zak and Dream. 

Zak gave me my crown (which was a queen's crown, but I accepted it nonetheless), and directed me to stand next to the blond. I looked up to him, smiling awkwardly. He took my hand in his, his eyes reflecting some sort of passion and happiness I had never really seen before- he was happy to be here, with  _ me.  _

Zak spoke into the mic one last time with a smile plastered onto his face, "Everyone please make a circle in the middle of the dance floor for our couple to have a dance!" 

Everyone complied, leaving a space for Dream and I to dance with each other. 

He held out his hand, asking, "Would you like to dance?" 

Breathlessly, I replied, "Is that even a question?" 

Swiftly and elegantly, he took my hand, finding our place in the middle of the spotlight that hung directly over us. From the light that shone bright, all of the people who stood around us disappeared from my line of vision; I liked to imagine that Dream and I were now alone, that no one was there. 

His hands took mine as he spun me around with elegance, allowing us to fall perfectly into place once more. His hands found their place on my waist, pulling me closer to him that I was previously. 

Together, we stepped in perfectly rhythmic harmony as if we were one in the same. 

I chuckled awkwardly, my mind wandering back to the idea that plenty of others were watching our every move. 

"Don't worry about them; this is our moment. Our time to show them that we love each other so very much, and there is  _ nothing  _ they can do to stop what I feel for you," he whispered gently into my ear, tingling the hairs on the side of my neck. 

His words reminded me of what really mattered, and it was what Dream and I were doing. Not what others thought about us. 

The more and more steps we took, dancing in a successfully repeated pattern, the more and more I didn't want the night to end. My time in America was coming to a close- in short, it felt like I lived a whole ten years worth of life experience in the span of a few months. I had so many firsts, (and hopefully a lot of lasts), that I would never trade in for a different high school experience. 

Why? 

It took me right here; in the moment that I was in right at that second, where I was held closely against the chest of my first (and probably last) love, who loved me just as much as I did (sure, it was wishful thinking since most high school couples didn’t last past graduation, but I was willing to do whatever it took to stay with my love). It took me to a moment where I was surrounded by all of my friends- all of the people who had supported me through my senior year. 

Dream's right hand traced the bottom of my jaw, landing on the tip of my chin. His thumb ran over the light dip in my bottom lip, halting at the spot right next to the corner where my lips met. 

"I love you George Davidson." 

I smirked. 

"And I love you, Clay Anderson." 


End file.
